THE  UNIVERSITY 


OF  ILLINOIS 
LIBRARY 

021 

K23c 

\a4-77 


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sponsible for  its  return  on  or  before  the 
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> 


THE 


CHRISTIAN  YEAR. 


Yes,  if  the  intensities  of  hope  and  fear 
Attract  us  still,  and  passionate  exercise 
Of  lofty  thoughts,  the  way  before  us  lies 
Distinct  with  signs — through  which,  in  fixed  career. 
As  through  a zodiac,  moves  the  ritual  year 
Of  England’s  church, — stupendous  mysteries  ! 
Which  whoso  travels  in  her  bosom,  eyes 
As  he  approaches  them,  with  solemn  cheer. 
Enough  for  us  to  cast  a transient  glance 
The  circle  through. 

Wordsworth. 


(2) 


LIBRARY 

OF  HIE 

UNIVERSITY  Of  ILLINOIS 


THE 


CHRISTIAN  YEAR; 

THOUGHTS  IN  VEHSE 

FOR  THE 

iSUNDAY  S AND  HOLY  DAY  Si 

THROUGHOUT  THE  YEAR. 

BY  THE  BEV.  JOHN  KEBLE, 
•PROFESSOR  of  poetry  in  the  university 
OF  OXFORD. 

In  quietness  and  in  confidence  shall  be  your  strength. 

Isaiah,  xxx.  15. 


A NEW  AMERICAN  EDITION. 
EDITED,  WITH  AN  INTRODUCTION, 

B Y TH  E 

RIGHT  REV.  GEORGE  W.  DOANE, 

BISHOP  OF  NEW  JERSEY. 


PHILADELPHIA  : 

LEA  AND  BLANCHARD. 

1847. 


*l\ 

K £Bc_ 

I?  VI 


* TO 

MY  NEXT  FRIEND, 

AND  MORE  THAN  BROTHER, 

THE  REV.  WILLIAM  CROSWELL, 

RECTOR  OF  CHRIST  CHURCH,  BOSTON, 

THESE  PIOUS  BREATHINGS 
OF 

A KINDRED  SPIRIT 

| ARE  MOST  AFFECTIONATELY  INSCRIBED. 

G.  W.  D. 

St.  Mary's  Parsonage, 

Burlington,  May  27,  1834. 


925756 


The  annual  course  of  God’s  great  mystery, 

“The  word  made  flesh."  On  that  with  piercing  eye 
\ The  angels  gaze.  On  that  the  Church  invites 
[ Her  sons  to  linger.  As  thereon  me  muse, 

On  each  strange  scene,  or  altogether  wove, 

' A wondrous  tissue  like  the  braided  hues 

Which  blessed  the  Patriarch’s  sight,  with  eye  above 
\ Uplifted,  faith  the  dear  memorials  views, 

Signs  of  past  mercy  and  endearing  love. 

Bishop  Mant. 


(6) 


INTRODUCTION 


THE  AMEKICAH  EDITOR 

The  Editor’s  first  acquaintance  with  the  “ Christian  j 
\ Year”  was  accidental.  In  a little  volume  of  Conversa- 
J tions  on  the  Sacramenls  and  Services  of  the  Church  of  s 

> England,  written  by  a lady,  those  beautiful  lines,  at  £ 
! the  opening  of  the  piece  entitled  “ Holy  Baptism”— 

“ Where  is  it,  mothers  learn  their  love? 

In  every  Church  a fountain  springs 
O’er  w hich  the  eternal  Dove 
Hovers  on  softest  wings — 

! attracted  his  attention,  and  led  him  to  order  it  through  \ 
! his  bookseller.  This  was  in  18-J8,  the  year  after  its 

> publication.  The  book,  when  received,  was  read  with  5 

> unmingled  delight ; and  no  volume  of  uninspired  poetry  j 
» has  ever  given  him  such  rich  and  continued  satisfac- 

> tion.  It  has  seemed  to  him,  as  Charles  the  Emperor  l 
| thought  of  Florence,  a book  too  pleasant  to  be  read  j 
’ but  only  on  holydays;”*  and  he  has  thought  of  no- 

{ thing  more  expressive  of  its  delightful,  tranquillizing  ^ 
spirit,  than  those  lines  of  holy  George  Herbert, 

“ Sweet  day,  so  cool,  so  calm,  so  bright, 

The  bridal  of  the  earth  and  sky.” 


t u When  I sat  last  on  this  primrose  bank,  and  looked  down  ) 

> these  meadows,  I thought  of  them  as  Charles  the  Emperor  did  of  > 

> the  city  of  Florence  ; that  they  were  too  pleasant  to  be  looked  on, 

> but  only  on  holydays.” 

Isaac  Walton , Complete  Angler. 


(7) 


INTRODUCTION 


i viii 


-fr 


From  the  time  of  its  first  reading,  the  Editor  has 
! never  ceased  to  recommend  it  to  his  personal  friends; 
and  in  the  “ Banner  of  the  Church,”  and  in  other  ] 
ways,  to  call  the  public  attention  to  its  merits.  Many 
5 copies  have  been  imported ; and  there  is  now  an  in- 

> creasing  circle  of  admiring  and  delighted  readers, 

j realizing  for  our  Christian  poet,  what  the  greatest  of 
[ that  name  desired  for  himself, 

“Fit  audience,  though  few;”— 

} the  “ magnanimi  pochi,”  to  whom  Petrarch,  kindred 
{ in  more  respects  than  one  with  Milton,  made  his  sub- 
| lime  appeal. 

Strangely  enough,  though  the  "Christian  Year”  has 
J passed  through  more  than  fifty  editions  in  England,*  U 
! found  no  avenue  to  the  American  press,  until  brought, 

! last  summer,  to  the  notice  of  the  intelligent  and  liberal 
l publishers  under  whose  auspices  it  now  appears.  In 
5 contemplating  an  American  edition,  it  was  an  obvious 

> consideration,  that,  to  a large  portion  of  the  admirers 
) of  religious  poetry,  much  of  the  charm  of  Keblo’s 
; volume  would  be  lost,  by  their  want  of  familiarity  wi  h 
! the  arrangement  of  the  " Christian”  or  Ecclesiastical 
^ "Year,”  which  forms  its  ground  work,  the  siring  on 

which  his  pearls  are  hung.  The  Editor  undertook  to 
supply  this  deficiency  ; and  in  doing  so,  he  has  aimed 


* “ The  almost  unexampled  popularity  of  the  ‘ Christian  Year,’ 

^ and  ihe  ‘Iteclory  of  Valehead,’  both  unquestionably  breathing  | 
[ the  pure  spirit  of  the  olden  time,  is  no  unfavourable  prognostic  of  > 
? better  times  to  come.” — Bishop  Jtbb. 

A late  bookseller’s  list  enumerates,  in  8vo.  six  editions,  in  18r 
£ tweDty-four,  and  in  32mo.  twenty*two.  (1844.) 


BY  THE  AMERICAN  EDITOR. 


-+ 


IX 


to  perform  a service  far  beyond  the  additional  interest ; 
! which  may  thus  be  given  to  these  “Thoughts  in  verse.”  ! 
! He  frankly  avows  the  purpose  of  rendering  the  pre-  ! 
! sent  enterprise  subservient  to  the  higher  object  of  ex-  ! 
! tending  the  knowledge  and  the  influence  of  religion,  as  ! 
it  is  exhibited  in  the  order,  institutions  and  services  of! 
the  Church.  The  arrangement  of  the  Ecclesiastical  ! 
Year,  he  has  always  regarded  as  one  of  the  happiest  j 
of  possible  contrivances  for  arresting  the  attention,  and  ; 
; maintaining  the  interest  of  men,  in  regard  to  the  great  \ 
; facts  of  Christianity,  while  it  appeals  most  powerfully  ; 
to  the  purest  and  strongest  sympathies  of  the  human  ; 
heart  in  their  behalf.  It  is  an  acknowledged  principle  ; 
of  philosophy,  that  whatever  is  to  make  the  strongest ! 
iression  on  men  must  be  made  visible,*  hither  to  ! 

bodily,  or  to  the  “ mind’s  eye.”  How  extensively 
; principle  is  applied  in  practice  to  the  promotion  of 
ular  interests,  by  pictures,  statues,  processions,  pa- 
ints, every  one  has  seen.  The  blessed  Saviour  re- 
mised its  value  in  the  institution  of  his  few  simple, 
utiful,  visible  sacraments.  In  the  reasonable,  scrip- 
al  and  most  becoming  appointments  of  the  “Chris- 
i Year,”  the  Church,  following  the  example  of  the 
ine  appointments  under  the  law,  has  applied  this 
dous  principle  to  the  commemoration  of  the  great 
ts-of  Christianity.  In  the  festivals  of  the  Nativity, 
Crucifixion,  the  Resurrection,  the  Ascension,  the 
ine  Saviour  seems,  year  by  year,  to  be  visibly  set 
th  in  his  mighty  and  merciful  acts,  performed  for 


* Segnius  irritant  animos  demissa  per  aurem, 


Ipse  sibi  tradit  spectator.’ 


Quam  quae  sunt  oculis  subjecta  fidehbus,  et  quae 


Horace. 


■+ 


our  redemption  : while  in  the  minor  festivals,  the  bless- 
ed weekly  feast  of  Sunday,  and  the  solemn  days  of 
preparation  and  of  commemoration,  the  glorious  and 
endearing  theme  is  constantly  kept  up  before  our  eyes 
and  hearts:  and  “the  rolling  year,”  in  a sense  far 
higher  than  the  poet's,*  “ is  full  of”  Him.  T,he  effect 
of  this  practice,  where  it  has  been  adopted,  has  been 
well  seen  in  the  increase  of  the  knowledge  of  salva- 


Christ.”  In  the  additional  interest  which  this  little 
volume  will  create  in  these,  the  most  important  of  all 
subjects,  the  Editor  expects  to  find  his  sufficient  reward. 

The  Author  of  these  pieces,  it  has  come  incidentally 
to  the  knowledge  of  the  Editor,  while  he  holds  the 
most  honourable  office  of  Professor  of  Poetry  in  the 
University  of  Oxford,  is  the  exemplary  and  faithful 
pastor  of  an  humble  country  congregation,  and  devotes 
himself  unsparingly  to  the  spiritual  welfare  of  a rustic 
flock,  in  which  there  is  scarcely  a single  family  of  rank 
or  education.  It  is  in  such  a school,  that  the  sweetest 
and  most  Christian  poet  of  modern  days  is  fitly  taught. 
So  it  was  that  Bemerton,  and  Little  Gidden,and  Hod- 
net,  became  nurseries  of  strains  that  shall  never  die. 
God  be  thanked,  that  along  the  tract  of  ages  he  still 
scatters  spirits  like  Hooker’s,  and  Herbert’s,  and  Wal- 
ton’s, and  Ken’s,  and  Ferrar’s,  and  Jeremy  Taylor’s, 
and  Heber’s,  and  Keble’s, — to  show  how  nearly  the 
human  may  by  grace  attain  to  the  angelic  nature,  to 
enchant  our  spirits  here  by  the  prolusion  of  those  sera- 
phic strains  which  in  heaven  are  the  continual  occupa- 


BY  THE  AMERICAN  EDITOR. 


I tion  and  enjoyment  of  the  saints, — “ singing  on  earth,” 
j as  Isaak  Walton  said  of  Herbert,  “such  hymns  and 
c anthems  as  the  angels,  and  he,  and  Mr.  Ferrar  now 
l sing  in  heaven.” 

In  conclusion,  the  “ Christian  Year,”  apart  from  its 
j!  high  poetical  merit,  is  recommended  most  earnestly  for 
its  pure,  affectionate,  and  elevating  character,  as  a 
S family  book.  The  taste  which  can  appreciate  its  ex- 

> cellencies,  is  a Christian  taste.  The  meditation  of  its 

> eminently  spiritual  strains  will  tend  to  spiritualize  the 

> heart.  And  the  Christian  home,  where  it  is  made  a 
? household  book,  will  find  it  fruitful,  above  almost  every 
( book  of  human  origin,  in  homebred  charities  and  in- 

< nocent  delights.  “ Then  came  the  long  quiet  evening,” 

\ writes  one  who  can  well  estimate  the  various  merits  of 
| a volume  which  she  has  done  much  to  draw  into  gone- 
] ral  use,  “ when  some  of  us  gathered,  as  closely  as 
| possible,  round  the  bright  fire,  and  listened,  while  one 
; and  another  dear  voice  read  some  passage  from  Keble’s 
j Christian  Year.  Soothing,  beautiful  poetry!  well  cal- 
j culated  to  lift  the  heart  above  the  cares  of  this  trouble- 

< some  world,  and  to  light  the  path  with  the  sunshine  of 

] heaven.”*  G.  W.  D. 

St.  Mary's  Parsonage, 

Burlington,  July  1,  1834. 


* Scenes  in  our  Parish,  by  a Country  Parson’s  Daughter. 

Throughout  the  volume  the  notes  of  the  American  Editor  £ 
are  enclosed  in  brackets. 


1- 


Holmes  i//  y . Chi 


+~ 


AUTHOR'S  ADVERTISEMENT. 


Next  to  a sound  rule  of  faith,  there  is  nothing  of  so  ? 
5 much  consequence  as  a sober  standard  of  feeling  in  $ 
j matters  of  practical  religion  : and  it  is  the  peculiar  hap-  < 
? piness  of  the  Church  of  England,  to  possess,  in  her  \ 
l authorized  formularies,  an  ample  and  secure  provision  s 
? for  both.  But  in  times  of  much  leisure  and  unbounded  5 

< curiosity,  when  excitement  of  every  kind  is  sought  after  5 

< with  a morbid  eagerness,  this  part  of  the  merit  of  our  > 

< Liturgy  is  likely  in  some  measure  to  be  lost,  on  many  $ 

< even  of  its  sincere  admirers:  the  very  tempers,  which  5 
\ most  require  such  discipline,  setting  themselves,  in  ge-  ^ 
£ neral,  most  decidedly  against  it. 

The  object  of  the  present  publication  will  be  attained,  j 
5 if  any  person  find  assistance  from  it  in  bringing  his  < 
> own  thoughts  and  feelings  into  more  entire  unison  with  t 
) those  recommended  and  exemplified  in  the  Prayer  t 
? Book.  The  work  does  not  furnish  a complete  series  of  £ 
r compositions ; being,  in  many  parts,  rather  adapted  J 

< with  more  or  less  propriety  to  the  successive  portions  $ 

< of  the  Liturgy,  than  originally  suggested  by  them.  J 

< Something  has  been  added  at  the  end  concerning  the  $ 
s several  Occasional  Services:  which  constitute,  from  < 
s their  personal  and  domestic  nature,  the  most  perfect  l 
\ instance  of  that  soothing  tendency  in  the  Prayer  Book,  < 

£ which  it  is  the  chief  purpose  of  these  pages  to  exhibit,  j 

May  30,  1827. 


(12) 


CONTENTS. 


Page  | 

} Morning  - --  --  --  --  --  --  --  17  5 

? Evening  - --  --  --  --  --  --  --  39^ 

5 Advent  Sunday  - --  --  --  --  - - - 22  5 

< Second  Sunday  in  Advent.  The  Signs  of  the  Times  28  £ 

5 Third  Sunday  in  Advent.  The  Travellers  - - 30  > 
s Fourth  Sunday  in  Advent.  Dimness  - - - - 34  j 
\ Christmas  Day  - --  --  --  --  --  --37? 

5 St.  Stephen’s  Day  - --  --  --  --  --  - 42  5 

< St.  John’s  Day  ------------  - 45  j 

5 The  Holy  Innocents  -----------  - 47  > 

5 First  Sunday  after  Christmas.  The  Sun-dial  of  l 
? Ahaz  - --  --  --  - --  --  --  --  49  r 

5 The  Circumcision  of  Christ - 52  | 

< Second  Sunday  after  Christmas.  The  Pilgrim’s  ? 
; Song  ---------------  - 55  5 

s The  Epiphany  - --  --  --  --  --  --  58  < 

i First  Sunday  after  Epiphany.  The  Nightingale  - 61  < 

I'  Second  Sunday  after  Epiphany.  The  Secret  of  \ 

Perpetual  Youth  - --  --  --  --  --  64  < 

Third  Sunday  after  Epiphany-  The  Good  Cen-  ) 

turion  - -- -------  67  < 

Fourth  Sunday  after  Epiphany.  The  World  is  for  ? 

Excitement,  the  Gospel  fbr.Soothing  - - - - 70  s 
Fifth  Sunday  after  Epiphany.  Cure  Sin  and  you  l 
cure  Sorrow  - --  --  --  --  --  --  73  ) 

Sixth  Sunday  after  Epiphany.  The  Benefits  of  ] 
Uncertainty  ------------  - 76  > 

Septuagesima  Sunday  - --  --  --  --  - 79  s 
Sexagesima  Sunday  -----------  81  \ 

Ciuinnuaeesima  Sunday  ---------  - P5  5 

Ash -Wednesday  - --  --  --  --  --  - 88  \ 
First  Sunday  in  Lent.  The  City  of  Refuge  - - DO  > 
Second  Sunday  in  Lent.  Esau’s  Forfeit  - - - 93  s 
Third  Sunday  in  Lent.  The  Spoils  of  Satan  - - 96  \ 
Fourth  Sunday  in  Lent.  The  Rosebud  - - 


> XIV 


CONTENTS. 


Page  } 

} Fifth  Sunday  in  Lent.  The  Burning  Bush  - - - 102  > 

> Palm  Sunday.  The  Children  in  the  Temple  - - 105  £ 
Monday  before  Easter.  Christ  waiting  for  the  } 

} Cross  - 107  } 

} Tuesday  before  Easter.  Christ  refusing  the  Wine  \ 

} and  Myrrh  no} 

} Wednesday  before  Easter.  Christ  in  the  Garden  112  £ 
) Thursday  before  Easier.  The  Vision  of  the  latter  > 

Days 115} 

} Good  Friday  - --  --  --  --  --  --  118  ( 
5 Easter  Rve  - - - --  --  --  --  --  - 12  IS 

) Easter  Day  - --  --  --  --  --  --  - 124  } 

} Monday  in  Easter  Week.  St.  Peter  and  Cornelius  128  } 

} Tuesday  in  Easier  Week.  The  Snow  Drop  - - 130} 
} First  Sunday  after  Easter.  The  restless  Pastor  } 

> reproved  - --  --  --  - --  --  --  133} 

< Second  Sunday  after  Easter.  Balaam  - - - - 336} 
} Third  Sunday  after  Easter.  Languor  and  Travail  139  > 
} Fourth  Sunday  after  Easter.  The  Dove  on  the  } 
} Cross  ---------------  142  ? 

} Fifth  Sunday  after  Easter.  Rogation  Sunday  - 146} 

} Ascension  Day 149} 

} Sunday  after  Ascension  - --  --  --  - - 152} 

} Whitsunday  - -------  155} 

} Monday  in  Whitsun-Week.  The  City  of  Con-  } 
} fusion -----  - 157 } 

< Tuesday  in  Whitsun-Week.  Holy  Orders  - - 161 } 

} Trinity  Sunday - - 164  ? 

} First  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Israel  among  the  } 

? Ruins  of  Canaan 167? 

S Second  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Charity  the  Life  of  } 

Faith 169 

} Third  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Comfort  for  Sinners  > 

in  the  presence  of  the  Good 172  } 

Fourth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Groans  of  ? 

Nature  - --  - 174} 

l Fifth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Fishermen  of  } 
} Bethsaida  - --  --  --  --  --  --  - 177  > 

} Sixth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Psalmist  Repent-  } 
} ing  - --  --  --  --  --  --  --  - 180  ? 

} Seventh  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Feast  in  the  } 
Wilderness  - --  --  --  - 183  } 


Page  £ 

] Eighth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  disobedient 

\ Prophet --------  - 186  £ 

s Ninth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Elijah  in  Horeb  - 188  l 
$ Tenth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Christ  Weeping  over  > 
i Jerusalem  - --  --  --  - 192  < 

< Eleventh  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Gehazi  reproved  194  ? 

? Twelfth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Deaf  and  > 

\ Dumb  - - 196  [ 

< Thirteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Moses  on  the 

\ Mount - - - - 199 ) 

< Fourteenth  Sunday  after  Trinily.  The  Ten  Lepers  203  ) 

) Fifteenth  Sunday  after  Trinily.  The  Flowers  of  s 

s the  Field  - - --  --  205  1 

? Sixteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Hope  is  better  > 

| than  Ease  - -- _-  - 207  < 

< Seventeenth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Ezekiel’s  ? 

) Vision  in  the  Temple  --  ------  - 210  l 

s Eighteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Church  in  \ 
t the  Wilderness  - --  --  --  --  --  - 213  > 

) Nineteenth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Shadrach, 

< Meshach,  and  Abednego  - --  --  --  - 216  > 

) Twentieth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Mountain  Scenery  219  £ 

1 Twenty-first  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Red-  ? 

} Breast  in  September  - --  --  --  - - - 221  S 

> Twenty-second  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Rule  l 

< of  Christian  Forgiveness 223  ; 

? Twenty-third  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Forest  < 
s Leaves  in  Autumn  - --  --  --  --  - 225  ? 

I Twenty-fourth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  Imperfec-  S 
) tion  of  Human  Sympathy 227  ( 

< Twenty-fifth  Sunday  after  Trinity.  The  Two  Rain-  > 

> bows  - 230  \ 

j Sunday  next  before  Advent.  Self-examination  ? 

\ before  Advent  - --  --  --  --  --  - 232  s 

) St.  Andrew’s  Day  - --  --  --  --  --  236  l 

< St.  Thomas  the  Apostle  - --  --  --  --  239  > 

; Conversion  of  St.  Paul  - --  --  --  --  - 243  ? 

The  Purification  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin  - - - 247  > 

St.  Matthias’  Day  - - 251 

5 The  Annunciation  of  the  Blessed  Virgin  Mary  - 254  \ 

< St.  Mark’s  Day - 257  l 

j St.  Philip  and  St.  James’ Day  ------  - 259  $ 

•f * 


Page  ) 

< St.  Barnabas  the  Apostle  - --  --  --  --  262  \ 
( St.  John  Baptist’s  Day  - --  --  - - - - - 265  ; 
\ St.  Peter’s  Day  ----------  - 268  ) 

J St.  James  the  Apostle  - - - - - - - -271  i 

> St.  Bartholomew  the  Apostle  -------  274  5 

) St.  Matthew  the  Apostle  - -------  277  < 

) St.  Michael  and  all  Angels  - - --  --  --  281  5 

5 St.  Luke  the  Evangelist  - - 284) 

\ Sr.  Simon  and  St.  Jude,  Apostles  ------  288  ? 

$ All  Saints’  Day  - --  --  --  --  --  - 291  ) 

< Holy  Communion  -------  ---  - 293  \ 

) Holy  Baptism  - --  --  --  --  --  --  296  ) 

) Catechism  - --  --  --  --  --  --  - 298  ) 
) Confirmation  - --  --  --  --  --  --  300  / 

) Matrimony  - --  --  --  --  --  --  - 302  ) 
) Visitation  and  Communion  of  the  Sick  - - - - 304 

5 Burial  of  the  Dead  - --  --  --  --  --  306  5 

) Churching  of  Women  - - --  --  --  --  309  < 

I'  Forms  of  Prayer  to  be  used  at  Sea  - - - - - 3 13  ) 
Gunpowder  Treason  - - --  --  --  --  - 315  \ 
King  Charles  the  Martyr  - --  --  --  --  318  > 
The  Restoration  of  the  Royal  Family  - - - - 320  ) 
The  Accession  - --  --  --  --  --  --  326  > 

Ordination  - --  --  --  --  --  --  - 328  > 


i 


THE 


CHRISTIAN  YEAR 


MORNING. 


His  compassions  fail  not.  They  are  new  every 
morning. — Lament,  iii.  22,  23. 


'+ 


2 


(17) 


18 


MORNING. 


New  every  morning  is  the  love 
Our  wakening  and  uprising  prove  ; 

Through  sleep  and  darkness  safely  brought, 
Restored  to  life,  and  power,  and  thought. 

New  mercies,  each  returning  day, 

Hover  around  us  while  we  pray  ; 

New  perils  past,  new  sins  forgiven, 

New  thoughts  of  God,  new  hopes  of  heaven. 

If  on  our  daily  course  our  mind 
Be  set,  to  hallow  all  we  find, 

New  treasures  still,  of  countless  price, 

God  will  provide  for  sacrifice. 


Old  friends,  old  scenes,  will  lovelier  be, 
As  more  of  heaven  in  each  we  see : 

Some  softening  gleam  of  love  and  prayer 
Shall  dawn  on  every  cross  and  care. 


As  for  some  dear  familiar  strain 
Untired  we  ask,  and  ask  again, 

Ever,  in  its  melodious  store, 

Finding  a spell  unheard  before. 

Such  is  the  bliss  of  souls  serene, 

When  they  have  sworn,  and  steadfast  mean, 
Counting  the  cost,  in  all  to  espy 
Their  God,  in  all  themselves  deny. 

O could  we  learn  that  sacrifice, 

What  lights  would  all  around  us  rise ! 

How  would  our  hearts  with  wisdom  talk 
Along  life’s  dullest,  dreariest  walk ! 

We  need  not  bid,  for  cloister’d  cell. 

Our  neighbour  and  our  work  farewell, 

Nor  strive  to  wind  ourselves  too  high 


For  sinful  man  beneath  the  sky: 


The  trivial  round,  the  common  task, 
Would  furnish  all  we  ought  to  ask  ; 
Room  to  deny  ourselves  ; a road 
To  bring  us,  daily,  nearer  God. 

Seek  we  no  more  ; content  with  these, 
Let  present  rapture,  comfort,  ease, 

As  Heaven  shall  bid  them,  come  and  go:- 
The  secret  this  of  rest  below. 

Only,  O Lord,  in  thy  dear  love 
Fit  us  for  perfect,  rest  above  ; 

And  help  us,  this  and  every  day. 

To  live  more  nearly  as  we  pray. 


EVENING. 


Abide  with  us,  for  it  is  towards  evening,  and  the  j 
\ day  is  far  spent. — St.  Luke  xxiv.  29. 

’Tis  gone,  that  bright  and  orbed  blaze, 

Fast  fading  from  our  wistful  gaze  ; 

Yon  mantling  cloud  has  hid  from  sight 
The  last  faint  pulse  of  quivering  light. 

In  darkness  and  in  weariness 
The  traveller  on  his  way  must  press, 

No  gleam  to  watch  on  tree  or  tower, 

Whiling  away  the  lonesome  hour. 

Sun  of  my  soul  ! Thou  Saviour  dear, 

It  is  not  night  if  Thou  be  near: 

Oh  may  no  earth-born  cloud  arise 
To  hide  thee  from  thy  servant’s  eyes. 


EVENING. 

When  round  thy  wondrous  works  below 
My  searching  rapturous  glance  I throw, 
Tracing  out  Wisdom,  Power  and  Love, 

In  earth  or  sky,  in  stream  or  grove  ; — 

Or  by  the  light  thy  words  disclose 
Watch  Time’s  full  river  as  it  flows, 
Scanning  thy  gracious  Providence, 

Where  not  too  deep  for  mortal  sense  ; 

When  with  dear  friends  sweet  talk  I hold. 
And  all  the  flowers  of  life  unfold  :* 

Let  not  my  heart  within  me  burn, 

Except  in  all  J Thee  discern. \ 

When  the  soft  dews  of  kindly  sleep 
My  wearied  eyelids  gently  steep, 

Be  my  last  thought,  how  sweet  to  rest 
For  ever  on  my  Saviour’s  breast. 

Abide  with  me  from  morn  till  eve, 

For  without  Thee  I cannot  live: 

Abide  with  me  when  night  is  nigh, 

For  without  Thee  I dare  not  die! 


:f 


Thou  Framer  of  the  light  and  dark, 

Steer  through  the  tempest  thine  own  ark : 


* L“  Les  plaisirs  sont  les  fleurs  que  notre  divine  £ 
Maitre,  > 

Dans  les  ronces  du  monde,  autour  de  nous  fait  l 
naitre, 

Chacun  a sa  saison.*’] 

tP'Domine,  fecisli  nos  ad  te,  et  inquietum  est  cor  | 
nostrum  onec  requiescat  in  te.” — St.  Jlugustine.] 


Amid  the  howling  wintry  sea 
We  are  in  port  if  we  have  Thee.* 

The  Rulers  of  this  Christian  land. 

’Twixt  Thee  and  us  ordain’d  to  stand, — 
Guide  Thou  their  course,  O Lord,  aright  : 
Let  all  do  all  as  in  thy  sight. 

Oh!  by  thine  own  sad  burden,  borne 
So  meekly  up  the  hill  of  scorn, 

Teach  Thou  thy  priests  their  daily  cross 
To  bear  as  thine,  nor  count  it  loss ! 

If  some  poor  wandering  child  of  thine 
Have  spurn’d  to-day  the  voice  divine, 
Now,  Lord,  the  gracious  work  begin ; 

Let  him  no  more  lie  down  in  sin. 

Watch  by  the  sick : enrich  the  poor 
With  blessings  from  thy  boundless  store: 
Be  every  mourner’s  sleep  to-night 
Like  infant’s  slumbers,  pure  and  light. 

Come  near  and  bless  us  when  we  wake, 
Ere  through  the  world  our  way  we  take  : 
Till  in  the  ocean  of  thy  love 
We  lose  ourselves  in  heaven  above. 


»fVWVVWWW> 


; 22 


ADVENT  SUNDAY. 


ADVENT  SUNDAY.* 

Now  it  is  high  time  to  awake  out  of  sleep  : for  now  < 
» is  our  salvation  nearer  than  when  we  believed. — Ro~ 

> mans  xiii.  11.  [Epistle  for  the  Day.] 

, [Almighty  God,  give  us  grace  that  we  may  cast  £ 
away  the  works  of  darkness,  and  put  upon  us  the  ) 
! armour  of  light,  now  in  the  time  of  this  mortal  life,  in 
[ which  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  came  to  visit  us  in  great  \ 

> humility  ; that,  in  the  last  day,  when  he  shall  come  \ 
[ again  in  his  glorious  majesty  to  judge  both  the  quick  l 

> and  dead,  we  may  rise  to  the  life  immortal,  through  ’ 

> him  who  liveth  and  reigneth  with  thee  and  the  Holy  ] 

l Ghost,  now  and  ever.  JimenA]  ] 

Awake— again  the  Gospel  trump  is  blown — \ 

| From  year  to  year  it  swells  with  louder  tone; 
From  year  to  year  the  signs  of  wrath 
Are  gathering  round  the  Judge’s  path  : 

! Stra  nge  words  fulfill’d, a nd  mighty  works  achieved, 
And  truth  in  all  the  world  both  hated  and  believed. 


* [The  beginning  of  that  season  which  commemo- 
; rates  the  Advent  or  coming  of  our  blessed  Lord.  It 

> has  immediate  reference  to  his  first  coming  in  the 
; flesh,  and  so  is  designed  to  prepare  us  for  the  due 
p celebration  of  the  festival  of  the  nativity,  commonly 
[ called  Christmas  Day.  It  has  ultimate  reference  to 
j his  second  coming  in  glory,  and  so  is  designed  to  aid 
, us  in  preparation  for  the  day  of  final  judgment.  The 
' Advent  Sundays,  of  which  this  is  the  first,  are  the 

four  next  preceding  Christmas.  The  first  Sunday 
I in  Advent  is  always  ihe  Sunday  nearest  to  the  festi- 
; val  of  St.  Andrew,  whether  before  or  after.  If  that 
I Sunday  fall  on  the  last  day  of  November,  then  St. 
; Andrew’s  Day  and  Advent  Sunday  coincide.  See 

> note  on  St.  Andrew’s  Day.] 

> f [Throughout  the  “ Christian  Year,”  the  collect  for 
; the  day,  in  the  book  of  Common  Prayer,  will  be 

> inserted.] 


ADVENT  SUNDAY. 


23  < 


Awake  ! why  linger  in  the  gorgeous  town, 

\ Sworn  liegemen  of  the  cross  and  thorny  crown  7 
Up,  from  your  beds  of  sloth,  for  shame, 

Speed  to  the  eastern  mount  like  flame, 

\ Nor  wonder,  should  ye  find  your  king  in  tears; 
Even  with  the  loud  Hosanna  ringing  in  his  ears. ! 

\ Alas!  no  need  to  rouse  them  : long  ago 
| They  are  gone  forth  to  swell  Messiah’s  show; 

\ With  glittering  robes  and  garlands  sweet 
\ They  strew  the  ground  beneath  his  feet  : 

All  but  your  hearts  are  there— O doom’d  to  prove  $ 
The  arrows  wing’d  in  heaven  for  Faith  that  will  > 
( not  love  !*  > 

( Meanwhile  he  paces  through  th’  adoring  crowd, 

? Calm  as  the  march  of  some  majestic  cloud, 
i That  o’er  wild  scenes  of  ocean-war 
> Holds  its  course  in  heaven  afar: 

) Even  so,  heart-searching  Lord,  as  years  roll  on,f  l 

l Thou  keepest  silent  watch  from  thy  triumphal  £ 

| throne : 

{ Even  so,  the  world  is  thronging  round  to  gaze 
| On  the  dread  vision  of  the  latter  days, 
l Constrain’d  to  own  Thee,  but  in  heart 
\ Prepared  to  take  Barabbas’  part : 


* [“  And  a very  great  multitude  spread  their  gar- 
) meats  in  the  way  : others  cut  down  branches  from  the  5 
< trees  and  strewed  them  in  the  way.  And  the  multi-  £ 
? tudes  that  went  before,  and  that  followed,  cried,  Ho  > 
$ sauna  to  the  Son  of  David,”  — Here  was  faith  in  c 
<Jesus  as  the  Messiah.  The  sad  catastrophe  of  the  > 

> crucifixion  too  soon  proved  that  it  was  not  the  faith  > 

> which  “ worketh  by  Love." J 

t [So  the  apostles,  at  the  election  of  Matthias,  ad-  £ 
j dressing  Jesus,  “Thou,  Lord,  who  knowest  the  £ 
heart..”] 


j 24  ADVENT  SUNDAY. 

!“  Hosanna”  now,  to-morrow  “ Crucify,” 

The  changeful  burden  still  of  their  rude  lawless  £ 
cry. 

$ Yet,  in  that  throng  of  selfish  hearts  untrue, 

> Thy  sad  eye  rests  upon  thy  faithful  few ; 

Children  and  childlike  souls  are  there, 

Blind  Bartimeus’  humble  prayer, 

! And  Lazarus  waken’d  from  his  four  days’  sleep, 
Enduring  life  again,  that  Passover  to  keep. 

And  fast  beside  the  olive-border’d  way 
\ Stands  the  bless’d  home,  where  Jesus  deign’d  to  l 
stay, 

The  peaceful  home,  to  zeal  sincere 
And  heavenly  contemplation  dear, 

\ Where  Martha  loved  to  wait  with  reverence  meet, 

; And  wiser  Mary  linger’d  at  thy  sacred  feet. 

\ Still,  through  decaying  ages  as  they  glide, 
j Thou  lov’st  thy  chosen  remnant  to  divide  ; 
Sprinkled  along  the  waste  of  years, 

Full  many  a soft  green  isle  appears : 

| Pause  where  we  may  upon  the  desert  road, 

Some  shelter  is  in  sight,  some  sacred  safe  abode. 

When  withering  blasts  of  error  swept  the  sky,* 

\ And  Love’s  last  flower  seem’d  fain  to  droop  and 
die, 

How  sweet,  how  lone,  the  ray  benign, 

On  shelter’d  nooks  of  Palestine  ! 

$ Then  to  his  early  home  did  Love  repair, f 
\ And  cheer’d  his  sickening  heart  with  his  own 
native  air. 

* Arianism  in  the  fourth  century. 

\ . t See  St.  Jerome’s  Works,  i.  123,  edit.  Erasm. 
^JT'he  letters  of  Jerome  are  full  of  rural  pictures  of 


ADVENT  SUNDAY. 


25 


; Years  roll  away:  again  the  tide  of  crime 
! Has  swept  thy  footsteps  from  the  favour’d  clime.  < 
Where  shall  the  holy  Cross  rind  rest? 

On  a crown’d  monarch’s*  mailed  breast : 


\ exceeding  beauty.  He  evidently  wroto  con  amove,  j 
; with  a painter’s  eye.  and  a poet’s  feeling.  “ Having  < 

> passed,”  he  says,  “so  much  of  my  life  in  agitation,  < 
\ my  poor  bark  now  tossed  with  storms,  now  shattered  \ 

> against  rocks,  I betake  myself  to  the  retirement  of  the  < 
\ country,  as  to  a safe  and  peaceful  port.  Here,  plain  < 
f bread,  roots  raised  by  my  own  hands,  and  milk,  the  < 

> peasant’s  luxury,  supply  me  cheap  but  wholesome  i 
$ food.  So  living,  we  neither  suffer  hinderance  in  our  j 
[ devotions  from  drowsiness,  nor  in  our  studies  from 

[ satiety.  Is  it  summer, — our  trees  tempt  us  with  their  < 
sheltering  shade.  Is  it  autumn, — the  genial  tempera- 
ture of  the  air  delights  us,  while  the  fallen  leaves 
afford  a soft  and  quiet  couch.  Is  it  spring, —flowers 
£ enamel  the  ground,  and  ihe  tuneful  birds  lend  to  our  ) 
, hymns  their  sweet  accompaniment.  And  even  when  t 
! winter  comes,  with  storms  and  sleet,  we  have  wood 

> so  cheap  that  we  need  neither  sleep  nor  watch  un- 
t warmed.”  But  there  was  a charm  for  Jerome,  in  his 
£ retirement,  greater  even  than  this.  To  the  eye  of  a 

i painter  and  the  fancy  of  a poet,  he  added,  what  is  far  < 
[ more  ferule  in  enjoyment,  the  heart  of  a Christian  ; | 
, and  in  his  rustic  seclusion  this  had  abundant  giatifica- 
' tion.  “ Here,”  says  he.  ‘‘clownish  though  we  are,  i 
we  are  all  Christians.  Psalms  alone  break  the  per-  < 
vading  stillness.  The  ploughman  is  singing  hallelujahs  ? 
while  he  turns  his  furrow.  The  reaper  solaces  his  i 
toil  with  hymns.  The  vineyard  dresser,  as  he  prunes  l 
his  vines,  chants  something  from  the  strains  of  David.  < 
These  are  our  songs,  and  such  the  notes  with  which  < 
our  love  is  vocal.”—  1 find  in  the  Annals  of  Modern  i 
Missions  a beautiful  coincidence  with  the  sentiment  | 
of  Jerome.  “ It  is  now  very  different  from  what  it  < 
used  to  be,”  said  a native  assistant  to  the  Moravian  j 
missionaries  in  Greenland  ; ‘‘everywhere  you  hear  the  j 
people  singing  psalms.”] 

* St.  Louis  in  the  thirteenth  century. 


>26 


ADVENT?  SUNDAY. 


! Like  some  bright  angel  o’er  the  darkling  scene, 

\ Through  court  and  camp  he  holds  his  heavenward 
course  serene.* 

A fouler  vision  yet ; an  age  of  light, 

Light  without  love,  glares  on  the  aching  sight: 

Oh  ! who  can  tei  1 how  calm  and  sweejt, 

Meek  Walton  ! shows  thy  green  retreat, t 
When  wearied  with  the  tale  thy  times  disclose, 
The  eye  first  finds  thee  out  in  thy  secure  repose  ? 

Thus  bad  and  good  their  several  warnings  give 
Of  His  approach,  whom  none  may  see  and  Jive  : 
Faith’s  ear,  with  awful  still  delight, 

Counts  them  like  minute  bells  at  night, 
Keeping  the  heart  awake  till  dawn  of  morn, 
While  to  her  funeral  pile  this  aged  world  is  $ 
borne.J 

But  what  are  heaven’s  alarms  to  hearts  that  \ 
cower 

In  wilful  slumber,  deepening  every  hour, 


♦[Even  Gibbon  was  constrained  to  say  of  him, 

“ that  he  united  the  Virtues  of  a king,  a hero  and  a < 
man;  that  his  martial  spirit  was  tempered  with  the  ) 
love  of  private  and  public  justice:  and  that  Louis  s 
was  the  father  of  his  people,  the  friend  of  his  neigh-  $ 
hours,  and  the  terror  of  infidels.”] 
t[‘‘  Honest  Izaak.”  See  his  “Complete  Angler.” 
which  has  been  well  called  “ an  exquisitely  pleasing  < 
performance;”  and  his  incomparable  lives  of  Donne,  j 
Wotton,  Hooker,  Hoi^ert  and  Sanderson.] 
t [“  The  world  is  grown  old,  and  her  pleasures  are  j 


The  world  is  grown  old,  and  trembles  for  fear,  ) 
For  sorrows  abound,  and  judgment  is  near  ” 

Bishop  Heber.) 


ADVENT  SUNDAY. 

That  draw  their  curtains  closer  round, 

The  nearer  swells  the  trumpet’s  sound? 

$ Lord,  ere  our  trembling  lamps  sink  down  and  die,  ] 

\ Touch  us  with  chastening  hand,  and  make  us  < 
feel  Thee  nigh.* 

\ *LYet  once  again  thy  sign  shall  be  upon  the  heavens  | 
display’d, 

And  earth  and  its  inhabitants  be  terribly  afraid. 

For  not  in  weakness  clad  thou  com’st,  our  woes, 
our  sins  to  bear,' 

But  girt  with  all  thy  Father’s  might,  his  vengeance  | 
to  declare. 

The  terrors  of  that  awful  day,  oh  ! who  can  un- 
derstand ? 

Or  who  abide  when  thou  in  wrath  shall  lift  thy  holy 
hand  ? 

The  earth  shall  quake,  the  sea  shall  roar,  the  sun  < 
in  heaven  grow  pale  ; 

But  thou  hast  sworn,  and  wilt  not  change,  thy  faith- 
ful shall  not  fail. 

Then  grant  us.  Saviour,  t 
trembling  here, 

That  when  upon  the  clouds  of  heaven  thy  glory  > 
shall  appear,  \ 

Uplifting  high  our  joyful  heads,  in  triumph  we  may  ? 
rise.  5 

And  enter,  with  thine  angel  train,  thy  palace  in  the 
skies!  G.  W.  D.] 


1 28 


SECQND  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 


SECOND  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT, 

THE  SIGNS  OF  THE  TIMES. 

And  when  these  things  begin  to  come  to  pass,  then 

< look  up  and  lift  up  your  heads,  for  your  redemption 
? draweth  nigh.—  St.  Luke,  xxi.  28.  {Gospel  for  the 
\ Day.] 

[Blessed  Lord,  who  hast  caused  all  holy  scriptures 
S to  be  written  for  our  learning : grant  that  we  may  in 

< such  wise  hear  them,  read,  mark,  learn  and  inwardly 
? digest  them,  that  by  patience,  and  comfort  of  thy  holy 
S word,  we  may  embrace,  and  ever  hold  fast  the  blessed 

< hope  of  everlasting  life,  which  thou  hast  given  us  in 
$ our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  jimen.] 

Not  till  the  freezing  blast  is  still. 

Till  freely  leaps  the  sparkling  rill, 

And  gales  sweep  soft  from  summer  skies, 

As  o’er  a sleeping  infant’s  eyes 
A mother’s  kiss— ere  calls  like  these, 

No  sunny  gleam  awakes  the  trees, 

Nor  dare  the  tender  flowerets  show 
Their  bosoms  to  tli’  uncertain  glow. 

Why  then,  in  sad  and  wintry  time, 

Her  heavens  all  dark  with  doubt  and  crime, 
Why  lifts  the  Church  her  drooping  head, 

As  though  her  evil  hour  were  fled  ? 

Is  she  less  wise  than  leaves  of  spring, 

Or  birds  that  cower  with  folded  wing  ? 

What  sees  she  in  this  lowering  sky 
To  tempt  her  meditative  eye  ? 

She  has  a charm,  a word  of  fire, 

A pledge  of  love  that  cannot  tire ; 

By  tempests,  earthquakes,  and  by  wars, 

By  rushing  waves  and  falling  stars, 


SECOND  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 


29  l 


By  ever^  sign  her  Lord  foretold, 

She  sees  the  world  is  waxing  old,* 

And  through  that  last  and  direst  storm 
Descries  by  faith  her  Saviour’s  form. 

Not  surer  does  each  tender  gem, 

Set  in  the  fig  tree’s  polish’d  stem, 
Foreshow  the  summer  season  bland, 

Than  these  dread  signs  thy  mighty  hand : 
But,  oh  ! frail  hearts  and  spirits  dark  ! 
The  season’s  flight  unwarned  we  mark, 
But  miss  the  Judge  behind  the  door,f 
For  all  the  light  of  sacred  lore 

Yet  is  He  there : beneath  our  eaves 
Each  sound  his  wakeful  ear  receives  : 
Hush,  idle  words,  and  thoughts  of  ill. 
Your  Lord  is  listening  ; peace,  be  still.§ 
Christ  watches  by  a Christian’s  hearth, 

Be  silent,  “ vain  deluding  mirth,” 

Till  in  thine  alter’d  voice  be  known 
Somewhat  of  resignation’s  tone. 

But  chiefly  ye  should  lift  your  gaze 
Above  the  world’s  uncertain  haze, 

And  look  with  calm  unwavering  eye 
On  the  bright  fields  beyond  the  sky, 


* The  world  hath  lost  his  youth,  and  the  times 
! begin  to  wax  old.— 2 Esdras  xiv.  10. 

t See  St.  James  v.  9. 

J [Notwithstanding  all  the  light  of  Scripture.] 

$ lta  fabulantur,  ut  qui  sciant  Dominuin  audire. 
Tertull.  Apolog.  p.  36,  edit.  Rigalt. 


; 30  THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 

Ye,  who  your  Lord's  commission  bear, 

His  way  of  mercy  to  prepare  : 

Angels*  He  calls  you  ; be  your  strife 
To  lead  on  earth  an  angel’s  life. 

Think  not  of  rest ; though  dreams  be  sweet, 
Start  up,  and  ply  your  heavenward  feet. 

Is  not  God’s  oath  upon  your  head. 

Ne’er  to  sink  back  on  slothful  bed? 

Never  again  your  loins  untie, 

Nor  let  your  torches  waste  and  die, 

Till,  when  the  shadows  thickest  fall, 

Ye  hear  your  Master’s  midnight  call ! 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 

THE  TRAVELLERS. 

What  went  ye  out  into  the  wilderness  to  see?  a 
[ reed  shaken  with  the  wind  ? But  what  went  ye  out 
J lor  to  see?  a prophet?  Yea,  1 say  unto  you,  and 
; more  than  a prophet. — St.  Matt.  xi.  7.  8.  [Gospel 
j for  the  Day.] 

[O  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who,  at  thy  first  coming,  didst 
J send  thy  messenger  to  prepare  thy  way  before  thee  ; 

> grant  that  the  ministers  and  stewaids  of  thy  mysteries 
J may  likewise  so  prepare  and  make  ready  thy  way,  by 

> turning  the  hearts  of  the  disobedient  to  the  wisdom  of 

> the  just,  that,  at  thy  second  coming  to  judge  the  world, 

) we  may  be  found  an  acceptable  people  in  thy  sight, 

.»  who  livest  and  rcignest  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy 
l Spirit,  ever  one  God,  world  without  end.  Amen.] 


* [ Angels , from  the  Greek  term,  meaning  messengers  > 
^ or  apostles.] 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 


31  ; 


What  went  you  out  to  see 
O’er  the  rude  sandy  lea, 

! Where  stately  Jordan  flows  by  many  g.  palm, 

Or  where  Gennesaret’s  wave 
Delights  the  flowers  to  lave, 

; That  o'er  her  western  slope  breathe  airs  of  balm?  ! 

All  through  the  summer  night, 

Those  blossoms  red  and  bright* 

Spread  their  soft  breasts,  unheeding,  to  the  < 
breeze, 

Like  hermits  watching  still 
Around  the  sacred  hill, 

Where  erst  our  Saviour  watched  upon  his  knees. 

The  paschal  moon  above 
Seems  like  a saint  to  rove, 

Left  shining  in  the  world  with  Christ  alone  ; 
Below,  the  lake’s  still  face 
Sleeps  sweetly  in  th’  embrace 
Of  mountains  terraced  high  with  mossy  stone. 

Here  may  we  sit  and  dream 
Over  the  heavenly  theme, 

Till  to  our  soul  the  former  days  return  ; 

Till  on  the  grassy  bed,t 
Where  thousands  once  he  fed, 

The  world’s  incarnate  Maker  we  discern. 

O cross  no  more  the  main, 

Wandering  so  wild  and  vain, 


* Rhododendrons  : with  which  the  western  bank  of 
the  lake  is  said  to  be  clothed  down  to  the  water’s 
edge. 

t [“  Now  there  was  much  grass  in  this  place.” — 
St.  John  vi.  10.] 


! 32 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 


| To  count  the  reeds  that  tremble  in  the  wind, 

On  listless  dalliance  bound, 

Like  children  gazing  round, 

[ Who  on  God’s  works  no  seal  of  Godhead  find ; 

Bask  not  in  courtly  bower. 

Or  sun-bright  hall  of  power  ; 

! Pass  Babel  quick,  and  seek  the  holy  land ; 

From  robes  of  Tyriaii  dye 
Turn  with  undazzled  eye 
! To  Bethlehem’s  glade,  or  Carmel’s  haunted  strand. 


Or  choose  thee  out  a cell 
In  Kedron’s  storied  dell, 

Beside  the  springs  of  love,  that  never  die; 

Among  the  olives  kneel, 

The  chill  night-blast  to  feel, 

And  watch  the  moon  that  saw  thy  Master’s 
•agony.* 

Then  rise  at  dawn  of  day, 

And  wind  thy  thoughtful  way, 

Where  rested  once  the  Temple’s  stately  shade, 
With  due  feet  tracing  round 
The  city’s  northern  bound, 

To  th’  other  holy  garden,  where  the  Lord  was  $ 
laid.f 


* [The  passover,  when  our  Saviour  suffered,  was  \ 
always  at  the  full  moon.] 
t [It  is  worthy  of  notice  that  gardens  have  been  the  j 
scenes  of  the  three  most  stupendous  events  that  have 
occurred  on  earth— the  temptation  and  full  of  man,  j 
the  agony  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  his  resurreciion  j 
from  the  grave.] 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 

Who  thus  alternate  see 
His  death  and  victory, 

> Rising  and  falling  as  on  angel  wings, 

They,  while  they  seem  to  roam, 

Draw  daily  nearer  home, 

[ Their  heart  untravell’d  still  adores  the  King  of  I 
kings.* 

Or,  if  at  home  they  stay, 

Yet  are  they,  day  by  day, 

; In  spirit  journeying  through  the  glorious  land, 
Not  for  light  fancy’s  reed, 

Nor  honour's  purple  meed, 

; Nor  gifted  prophet’s  lore,  nor  science’  wondrous 
wand. 

But  more  than  prophet,  more 
Than  angels  can  adore 
^ With  face  unveil’d,  is  He  they  go  to  seek : 

Blessed  be  God,  whose  grace 
Shows  him  in  every  place 
\ To  homeliest  hearts  of  pilgrims  pure  and  meek. 


* [“  My  heart  untravelled  still  returns  to  thee.” 

Goldsmith's  Traveller .] 


3 


34 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT.* 


The  eyes  of  them  that  see  shall  riot  be  dim,  and  ) 

< the  ears  of  them  that  hear  shall  hearken.—  Isniah  $ 
\ xxxii.  3.  [/First  Lesson  in  the  Evening  Service.'] 

[O  Lord,  raise  up.  we  pray  thee,  thy  power,  and  $ 
j come  among  us,  and  with  great  might  succour  us;  < 
> that  whereas,  through  our  sins  and  wickedness,  we  ; 

< are  sore  let  and  hindered  in  running  the  race  that  is  j 
? set  before  us,  thy  bountiful  grace  and  mercy  may 

\ speedily  help  and  deliver  us,  through  the  satisfaction  5 

< of  thy  Son,  our  Lord  : to  whom,  with  Thee  and  the  £ 
5 Iloly  Ghost,  be  honour  and  glory,  world  without  end.  [ 

< Amen.] 

Of  the  bright  things  in  earth  and  air 
How  little  can  the  heart  embrace ! 

Soft  shades  and  gleaming  lights  are  there — 

I know  it  well,  but  cannot  trace. 


* [The  lines  which  follow  are  from  the  pen  of  the  < 

> beloved  friend  to  whom  this  volume  is  inscribed.  Its  > 
\ pages  wll  afford  other  evidence  of  the  justice  with  < 

? which  his  name  has  been  associated  with  the  honoured  S 
5 name  of  Keble,  as  “ a kindred  spirit.”  Were  he  5 
r aware  of  the  designed  association,  his  gentle  and  re-  < 
) tiring  nature  would,  I know,  forbid  it.  But  one  who,  ) 
< for  nine  years,  was  with  him  almost  daily,  and  shared  s 
? his  secret  thoughts,  must  claim  to  know  him  better  ? 
j than  lie  knows  himself';  and  he  does  not  fear  that  $ 
^ Keble  will  not  welcome  the  companionship. 

\ ADVENT. 

“ Rejoice  in  the  Loid  alway  ; and  aeain  1 say,  Re-  £ 
] joice.  The  Lord  is  at  hand.” — Epistle  for  the  last  $ 

> Sunday  in  Advent. 

Now  gird  your  patient  loins  again, 

Your  wasting  torches  trim! 

The  Chief  of  all  the  sons  of  men. 

Who  will  not  welcome  him  1 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT.  35 

Mine  eye  unworthy  seems  to  read 
One  pope  of  Nature’s  beauteous  Jbook : 

It  lies  before  me,  fair  outspread — 

I only  cast  a wishful  look. 

I cannot  paint  to  Memory’s  eye 
The  scene,  the  glance,  I dearest  love — 
Unchanged  themselves,  in  me  they  die, 

Or  faint,  or  false,  their  shadows  prove. 

In  vain,  with  dull  and  tuneless  ear, 

I linger  by  soft  Music’s  cell, 

And  in  my  heart  of  hearts  would  hear 
What  to  her  own  she  deigns  to  tell. 

’Tis  misty  all,  both  sight  and  sound— 

I only  know  ’tis  fair  and  sweet — 

’Tis  wandering  on  enchanted  ground 
With  dizzy  brow  apd  tottering  feet. 


Rejoice,  the  hour  is  near ! At  length 
The  Jpurneyer  on  his  way 
Comes  in  the  greatness  of  his  strength. 
To  keep  his  holy  day. 

With  cheerful  hymns  and  garlands  sweet 
Along  his  wintry  road, 

Conduct  him  to  his  green  retreat. 

His  shelter’d  safe  abode; 

Fill  all  his  court  with  sacred  songs, 

And  from  the  temple  wall 
Wave  verdure  o’er  the  joyful  throngs 
That  crowd  his  festival. 

And  still  more  greenly  in  the  mind 
Store  up  the  hopes  sublime 
Which  then  were  born  for  all  mankind. 
So  blessed  was  the  time ; 

And  underneath  these  hallowed  eaves 
A Saviour  will  be  born 
In  every  heart  that  him  receives 
On  his  triumphal  morn. 

Rev.  William  Crosioell.] 


36 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  IN  ADVENT. 


But,  patience!  there  may  come  a time 
When  these  dull  ears  shall  scan  aright 
Strains,  that  outring  earth’s  drowsy  chime, 

As  heaven  outshines  the  taper’s  light. 

These  eyes,  that,  dazzled  now  and  weak, 

At  glancing  motes  in  sdnshine  wink, 

Shall  see  the  King’s*  full  glory  break, 

Nor  from  the  blissful  vision  shrink : 

In  fearless  love  and  hope  uncloy’d 
For  ever  on  that  ocean  bright 
Empower’d  to  gaze;  and  undestroy’d, 

Deeper  and  deeper  plunge  in  light. 

Though  scarcely  now  their  laggard  glance 
Reach  to  an  arrow’s  flight,  that  day 
They  shall  behold,  and  not  in  trance, 

The  region  “ very  far  away.” 

If  Memory  sometimes  at  our  spell 
Refuse  to  speak,  or  speak  amiss, 

We  shall  not  need  her  where  we  dwell 
Ever  in  sight  of  all  our  bliss. 

Meanwhile,  if  over  sea  or  sky 
Some  tender  lights  unnoticed  fleet, 

Or  on  loved  features  dawn  and  die, 

Unread,  to  us,  their  lesson  sweet ; 

Yet  are  there  saddening  sights  around, 

Which  Heaven,  in  mercy,  spares  us  too, 
And  we  see  far  in  holy  ground. 

If  duly  purged  our  mental  view. 

♦Thine  eyes  shall  see  the  King  in  his  beauty  : they  $ 
shall  behold  the  land  that  is  very  far  olf. — Isaiah  £ 
, xxxiii.  17. 


The  distant  landscape  draws  not  nigh 
For  all  our  gazing;  but  the  soul 
That  upward  looks  may  still  descry 
Nearer,  each  day,  the  brightening  goal. 

And  thou,  too  curious  ear,  that  fain 
Wouldst  thread  the  maze  of  harmony, 
Content  thee  with  one  simple  strain, 

The  lowlier,  sure,  the  worthier  thee  ; 

Till  thou  art  duly  trained,  and  taught 
The  concord  sweet  of  love  divine  : 
Then,  with  that  inward  music  fraught, 
For  ever  rise,  and  sing,  and  shine. 


CHRISTMAS  DAY.* 

[DECEMBER  25.] 

( And  suddenly  there  was  with  the  angel  a multitude  £ 
i of  the  heavenly  host,  praising  God. — St.  Luke  ii.  13.  £ 
[Second  Morning  Lesson .] 

[Almighty  God,  who  hast  given  us  thy  only  begot- 
; ten  Son  to  take  our  nature  upon  him,  and  as  at  this  £ 

' time  to  be  born  of  a pure  virejn  ; grant  that  we,  being  S 
; regenerate  and  made  thy  children  by  adoption  and  ( 

■ grace,  may  daily  be  renewed  by  thy  Holy  Spirit,  S 
! through  the  same  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  liveth  < 

1 and  reigneth  with  thee  and  the  same  Spirit,  ever  one  \ 

I God,  world  without  end.  Amen.] 

What  sudden  blaze  of  song 
Spreads  o’er  th’  expanse  of  heaven  ? 

In  waves  of  light  it  thrills  along, 

Th’  angelic  signal  given — 

* [The  name  given  to  this  festival  in  the  Prayer  < 
Book,  sufficiently  describes  its  objects,  — “ The  nati-  r 
vity  of  our  Lord,  or  the  birth  day  of  Christ,  com-  > 
monly  called  Christmas  Day.” 


38 


CHRISTMAS  DAY. 


‘ Glory  to  God!”  from  yonder  central  fire 
^ Flows  out  the  echoing  lay  beyond  the  starry  choir; 

Like  circles  widening  round 
Upon  a clear  blue  river, 

Orb  after  orb,  the  wondrous  sound 
Is  echoed  on  for  ever: 

1 Glory  to  God  on  high,  on  earth  be  peace, 

£ And  love  towards  men  of  love*— salvation  and 
release.” 

Yet  stay,  before  thou  dare 
To  join  that  festal  throng; 

Listen  and  mark  what  gentle  air 
First  stirr’d  the  tide  of  song; 

’Tis  not,  “ the  Saviour  born  in  David’s  home, 

\ To  whom  for  power  and  health  obedient  worlds 
should  come — 

’Tis  not  “ the  Christ  the  Lord — 

With  fix’d  adoring  look 
The  choir  of  angels  caught  the  word. 

Nor  yet  their  silence  broke : 

But  when  they  heard  the  sign,  where  Christ 
should  be, 

\ In  sudden  light  they  shone  and  heavenly  harmony. 

Wrapp’d  in  his  swaddling  bands, 

And  in  his  manger  laid. 

The  hope  and  glory  of  all  lands 
Is  come  to  the  world’s  aid  : 

No  peaceful  home  upon  his  cradle  smiled, 

\ Guests  rudely  went  and  came,  where  slept  the 
royal  child. 

* I have  ventured  to  adopt  the  reading  of  the  Vul- 

§ate,  as  being  generally  known  through  Pergolesi’s  < 
eautiful  composition,  “ Gloria  in  excelsia  Deo,  et  in  } 
i terra  pax  hominibus  bona  voluntatis .” 


CHRISTMAS  DAY. 


39 


But  where  thou  dwellest.  Lord, 

No  other  thought  should  he, 

Once  duly  welcomed  and  adored, 

How  should  T part  with  Thee? 

Bethlehem  must  lose  Thee  soon,  but  Thou  wilt  ^ 
grace 

\ The  single  heart  to  be  thy  sure  abiding-place. 

Thee,  on  the  bosom  laid 
Of  a pure  virgin  mind, 

In  quiet  ever,  and  in  shade, 

Shepherd  and  sage  may  find  ; 

They,  who  have  bow’d  untaught  to  nature’s  ^ 
sway, 

! And  they,  who  follow  truth  along  her  star-paved  ^ 
way. 

The  pastoral  spirits  first* 

Approach  Thee,  Babe  divine, 

For  they  in  lowly  thoughts  are  nursed, 
Meet  for  thy  lowly  shrine  : 

Sooner  than  they  should  miss  where  Thou  dost  | 
dwell, 

! Angels  from  heaven  will  stoop  to  guide  them  to  l 
thy  cell. 

Still,  as  the  day  comes  round 
For  Thee  to  be  reveal’d, 

By  wakeful  shepherds  Thou  art  found, 
Abiding  in  the  field. 

*[A  beautiful  allusion  to  the  incidents  described  in  ] 

! that  sweet  pastoral  hymn, 

< **  While  shepherds  watch’d  their  flocks  by  night, 

? All  seated  on  the  ground,”  &. c. 

? There  is  much  better  poetry  in  the  world  than  this:  > 

5 but  it  may  he  well  doubted  whether  there  are  two  £ 
t other  lines  th*t  will  thrill  as  many  hearts,  or  brighten  ^ 

) as  many  eyes.] 


^ 

$ 40 


CHRISTMAS  DAY. 


:? 


All  through  the  wintry  heaven  and  chill  night  ( 
air* 

In  music  and  in  light  thou  dawnest  on  their  j 
prayer. 

* [The  determination  of  this  holy  festival  to  the 
day  on  which  the  Christian  world  agrees  to  celebrate 
it,  must  be  allowed  to  be  an  arbitrary  decision.  But 
its  occurrence  in  the  winter  certainly  gives  rise  to 
peculiar  and  delightful  associations  and  usages.  The 
pnets  have  not  failed  to  improve  this  circumstance. 
So  in  that  glorious  hymn  of  Milton,  on  the  morning 
of  Christ’s  nativity, — 

“ Tt  was  the  winter  wild, 

While  the  heaven-born  child 

All  meanly  wrapt  in  the  rude  manger  lies ; 
Nature  in  awe  to  him 
JHas  doff’d  her  gaudy  trim, 

With  her  great  Master  so  to  sympathize  : 

It  was  no  season  then  for  her 

To  wanton  with  the  Sun,  her  lus^y  paramour.” 

The  same  circumstance  is  beautifully  spiritualized 
in  the  following  lines  on  “ Christmas  Eve.” — having 
reference  to  the  becoming  practice  of  dressing  the 
churches  at  that  season  with  evergreens.  “ the  fir  tree, 
and  the  pine,  and  the  bo.x  tree  together.”  The  author 
of  them  has  more  ‘‘unwritten  poetry”  in  him  than 
any  man  1 know. 

The  thickly  woven  boughs  they  wreathe 
Through  every  hallow’d  fane 
A soft  reviving  odour  breathe 
Of  summer’s  gentle  reign  ; 

And  rich  the  ray  of  mild  green  light 
Which,  like  an  emerald’s  glow, 

Comes  struggling  through  the  latticed  height 
Upon  the  crowds  below. 

O let  the  streams  of  solemn  thought 
Which  in  those  temples  rise. 

From  deeper  sources  spring  than  aught 
Dependent  on  the  skies : 


4 


CHRISTMAS  DAY. 


41  ; 


O faint  not  ye  for  fear — 

What  though  your  wandering  sheep, 
Reckless  of  what  they  see  and  hear, 

Lie  lost  in  wilful  sleep  ? 

High  Heaven  in  mercy  to  your  sad  annoy 
\ Still  greets  you  with  glad  tidings  of  immortal  joy.  j 


Think  on  tlf  eternal  home 
The  Saviour  left  for  you; 

Think  on  the  Lord  most  holy,  come 
To  dwell  with  hearts  untrue  : 

So  shall  ye  tread  untired  his  pastoral  ways, 

( And  in  the  darkness  sing  your  carol  of  high  ] 
' praise. 


Then,  though  the  summer’s  pride  departs, 
And  winter’s  withering  chill 
Rests  on  the  cheerless  woods,  our  hearts 
Shall  be  unchanging  still. 

Rev.  William  CroswclL] 


>42 


ST.  STEPHEN  S DAY. 


ST.  STEPHEN'S  DAT.* 

[DECEMBER  26.] 

He,  being  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  looked  up  stead- 
’ fastly  into  heaven,  and  saw  the  glory  of  God,  and  S 
£ Jesus  standing  on  the  right  hand  of  God. — Acts  vii.  £ 
[Scripture  appointed  as  the  Epistle  fur  the\ 
j Bay.} 

[Grant,  O Lord,  that  in  all  our  sufferings  here  upon  £ 
| earth,  for  the  testimony  of  thy  truth,  we  may  stead-  > 

> fastly  look  up  to  heaven,  and  hy  faith  behold  the  < 
! glory  that  shall  be  revealed  ; and  being  filled  with  the  ? 
; Holy  Giiost,  may  learn  to  love  and  bless  our  perse-  S 

> cutors,  by  the  example  of  thy  first  martyr  Saint  £ 
| Stephen,  who  prayed  for  his  murderers  to  thee,  O > 
i blessed  Jesus,  who  standest  at  the  right  hand  of  God,  \ 
! to  succour  all  thpse  who  suffer  for  thee,  our  only  \ 
; Mediator  and  Advocate.  Amen.] 

As  rays  around  the  source  of  light 
Stream  upward  ere  he  glow  in  sight, 

And,  watching  by  his  future  flight, 

Set  the  clear  heavens  on  lire  ; 

So  on  the  King  of  martyrs  wait 
Three  chosen  bands,  in  royal  state, f 
And  all  earth  owns  of  good  and  great 
Is  gather’d  in  tha^  choir. 

! * [“Stephen,  a man  full  of  faith  and  of  the  Holy 't 

Ghost,”  was  one  of  the  seven  deacons  first  ordained,  i 
and  had  the  distinguished  honour  of  being  the  first  £ 

; martyr  to  the  Christian  faith.  He  was  stoned  to  death.] 

t Wheatley  on  the  Common  Prayer,  c.  v.  sect.  iv.  2. 5 
“As  tlieie  aie  three  kinds  of  Martyrdom,  the  first  both  l 
; in  will  and  deed,  which  is  the  highest  : the  second  in  > 

> will  but  not  in  deed  ; the  third  in  deed  but  not  in  will : l 
so  the  Church  commemorates  these  martyrs  in  the  ? 
same  order : St.  Stephen  first,  who  suffered  death  both  $ 


st.  Stephen’s  day.  43  \ 

One  presses  on,  and  welcomes  death  : 

One  calmly  yields  his  willing  breath, 

Nor  slow,  nor  hurrying,  but  in  faith 
Content  to  die  or  live  : 

And  some,  the  darlings  of  their  Lord, 

Play  smiling  with  the  flame  and  sword, 

And,  ere  they  speak,  to  his  sure  word 
Unconscious  witness  give. 

Foremost  and  nearest  to  his  throne, 

By  perfect  robes  of  triumph  known, 

And  Iikest  him  in  look  and  tone, 

The  holy  Stephen  kneels, 

With  steadfast  gaze,  as  when  the  sky 
Flew  open  to  his  fainting  eye, 

Which,  like  a fading  lamp,  flash’d  high, 

Seeing  wliEtt  death  conceals. 

Well  might  you  guess  what  vision  bright 
Was  present  to  his  raptured  sight, 

Even  as  reflected  streams  of  light 
Their  solar  source  betray— 

The  glory  which  our  God  surrounds,* 

The  Son  of  man,  th’  atoning  wounds — 

He  sees  them  all  ; and  earth’s  dull  bounds 
Are  melting  fast  away. 

He  sees  them  all— no  other  view 
Could  stamp  the  Saviour’s  likeness  true, 

Or  with  his  love  so  deep  embrue 
Man’s  sullen  heart  and  gross — 


; in  will  and  deed  ; St.  John  the  Evangelist  next,  who  | 
suffered  martyrdom  in  will  but  not  in  deed  ; the  Holy  < 
Innocents  last,  who  suffered  in  deed  but  not  in  will.” 

; * [“  But  he,  being  full  of  the  Holy  Ghost,  looked  up  | 

» steadfastly  to  heaven,  and  saw  the  glory  of  God,  and  < 

! Jesus  standing  on  the  right  hand  of  God.”] 


“ Jesu,  do  Thou  my  soul  receive  ;* 

Jesu,  do  Thou  my  foes  forgive  — 

He  who  would  learn  that  prayer,  must  live 
Under  the  holy  Cross ; 

He,  though  he  seem  on  earth  to  move, 
Must  glide  in  air  like  gentle  dove, 

From  yon  unclouded  depths  above 
Must  draw  his  plurer  breath  ; 

Till  men  behold  his  angel  facef 
All  radiant  with  celestial  grace, J 
Martyr  all  o’er,  and  meet  to  trace 
The  lines  of  Jesus’  death. 


* [“  And  they  stoned  Stephen,  calling  upon  God, 

; and  saying,  Lord  Jesus,  receive  my  spirit.  And  he  ^ 
i kneeled  down,  and  cried  with  a loud  voice,  Lord,  lay  < 

; not  this  sin  to  their  charge.  And  when  he  had  said  J 
this  he  fell  asleep.”] 

t And  all  that  were  in  the  council,  looking  stead- 
; fastly  on  him.  saw  his  face  as  it  had  been  the  face  of  > 
' an  angel. — Acts  vi.  15.  $ 

+ [With  awful  dread  his  murderers  shook, 

As,  radiant  and  serene, 

The  lustre  of  his  dying  look 
Was  like  an  angel’s  seen, 

Or  Moses’  face  of  paly  light, 

When  down  the  mount  he  trod, 

All  glowing  from  the  glorious  sight 
And  presence  of  his  God. 

To  us,  with  all  his  constancy, 

Be  his  rapt  vision  given, 

To  look  above  by  faith,  and  see 
Revealments  bright  of  heaven, 

And  power  to  speak  our  triumphs  out 
As  our  last  hour  draws  near. 

While  neither  clouds  of  fear  nor  doubt 
Before  our  view  appear. 

Rev.  William  Croswell.~\ 


4 


ST.  JOHN  S DAY. 


ST.  JOHN'S  DAT.* 

[DECEMBER  27.] 

Peter,  s§eing  him,  saith  to  Jesus,  Lord,  and  what 
; shall  this  man  do  ? Jesus  saith  unto  him.  If  1 will  that  ; 
! he  tarry  till  I come,  what  is  that  to  thee  ? follow  thou 
me.— St.  John.  xii.  21,  22.  t Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[Merciful  Lord,  w7e  beseech  thee  to  cast  thy  bright 
5 beams  of  light  upon  thy  Church,  that  it,  being  in-  < 
> sfructed  by  the  doctrine  of  thy  blessed  Apostle  and  < 
Evangelist  Saint  John,  may  so  walk  in  the  light  of  thy  < 
truth,  that  it  may  at  length  attain  to  eveflasting  life,  j 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

“ Lord,  and  what  shall  this  man  do?” 

Ask’st  thou, Christian,  for  thy  friend? 

If  his  love  for  Christ  be  true, 

Christ  hath  told  thee  of  his  end 
This  is  he  whom  God  approves, 

This  is  he  whom  Jesus  loves. 

Ask  not  of  him  more  than  this, 

Leave  it  in  his  Saviour’s  breast, 

Whether,  early  call’d  to  bliss, 

He  in  youth  shall  find  his  rest, 


* [This  is  the  festival  of  John,  the  Evangelist  and 
Apostle,  the  son  of  Zebedee,  and  brother  of  James  < 
! the  Greater.  He  was  especially  distinguished  during  ? 
’ the  lifetime  of  Jesus,  as  “ the  beloved  disciple.”  Be-  s 

> sides  the  gospel  which  benrs  his  name,  he  wrote  three  l 
5 Epistles  and  the  Apocaiypse.  He  lived  to  be  nearly  a ) 

> hundred  years  old  ; and  alone,  of  all  the  Apostles,  < 
» died  a natural  death.  When  he  was  too  infirm  through  ) 
; age  to  make  a longer  discourse,  his  constant  exhorta-  ; 

I fion  to  the  Christians  at  Ephesus,  where  he  lived,  was,  i 

‘‘  Little  children,  love  one  another !” 


ST.  JOHN  S DAY. 

Or  armed  in  his  station  wait 
Till  his  Lord  be  at  the  gate  ; 

Whether  in  his  lonely  course 
(Lonely,  not  forlorn)  he  stay. 

Or  with  love’s  supporting  force 
Cheat  the  toil  and  cheer  the  way: 
Leave  it  all  in  His  high  hand, 

Who  doth  hearts  as  streams  command.* 

Gales  from  heaven,  if  so  He  will, 
Sweeter  melodies  can  wake 
On  the  lonely  inountain  rill 
Than  the  meeting  waters  make. 
Who  hath  the  Father  and  the  Son 
May  be  left,  but  not  alone. 

Sick  or  healthful,  slave  or  free, 
Wealthy,  or  despised  and  poor  — 
What  is  that  to  him  or  thee, 

So  his  love  to  Christ  endure? 

When  the  shore  is  won  at  last. 

Who  will  count  the  billows  past? 

Only,  since  our  souls  will  shrink 
At  the  touch  of  natural  grief, 

When  our  earthly  loved  ones  sink, 
Lend  us.  Lord,  thy  sure  relief; 
Patient  hearts,  their  pain  to  see, 

And  thy  grace,  to  follow  Thee. 


* The  king’s  heart  is  in  the  hand  of  the  Lord,  ae  the  l 
! rivers  of  water : he  turnelh  it  whithersoever  he  will. — } 
Proverbs  xxi.  1. 


THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS. 


47  < 


THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS.* 

[DECEMBER  28.]  \ 

These  were  redeemed  from  among  men,  being  the  \ 
first  fruits  unto  God  and  to  the  Lamb.  — Revelation  \ 
xiv.  4.  L Scripture  appointed  for  the  Epistle.  1 S 

[O  Almighty  God,  who  out  of  the  mouths  of  babes  < 
and  sucklings  hast  ordained  strength,  and  madest 
infants  to  glorify  thee  by  their  deaths  : mortify  and  < 
kill  all  vices  in  us,  and  so  strengthen  us  by  thy  grace,  < 
that,  by  the  innocency  of  our  lives  and  constancy  of  > 
our  faith  even  unto  death,  wc  may  glorify  thy  holy  j1 
name,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

S\y,  ye  celestial  guards,  who  wait 
In  Bethlehem,  round  the  Saviour’s  palace  gate, 
Say,  who  are  these  on  golden  wings, 

That  hover  o’er  the  new-born  King  of  kings. 
Their  palms  and  garlands  telling  plain 
That  they  are  bf  the  glorious  martyr  train,! 


* [The  Church  on  this  day  commemorates  the  in- 
fants slaih  in  Bethlehem,  by  the  command  of  Herod,  ; 
in  the  vain  hope  of  destroying  the  Lord’s  Anointed, — ' 
then,  by  the  warning  of  an  angel,  safe  in  Egypt.  As  ! 
a service  commemorative  of  children,  it  is  sometimes  ; 
called  “ Childermas  Day.”! 

tCHail,  infant  suffefers  I martyr’d  flow’rets,  haij  ! 

Cut  off  by  ruthless  knife, 

Jus'  at  the  gate  of  life, 

Ye  fell,  as  new-born  roses  fall  when  scatter’d  by  the 
gale- 

Earliest  of  all  were  ye,  that  suffer’d  for  the  word, 

Sweet  firstlings  of  that  slaughter’d  flock,  so  pre- 
cious to  the  Lord  ; 

And  round  his  heavenly  altar  now,  his  high  uplifted 
throne. 

Ye  guileless  sport  the  crown  and  palm  your  martyr- 
dom hath  won. 

Imitated  from  Prudentius. — G.  W.  D .1 


48 


THE  HOLY  INNOCENTS. 


; Next  to  yourselves  ordain’d  to  praise 
; His  name,  and  brighten  as  on  Him  they  gaze  ? 

! But  where  their  spoils  and  trophies?  where 
! The  glorious  diht  a martyr’s  shield  should  bear? 

How  chance  no  cheek  among  them  wears 
The  deep-worn  trace  of  penitential  tears, 

But  all  is  bright  and  smiling  love, 

As  if,  fresh  bo,rne  from  Eden’s  happy  grove, 

They  had  flown  here,  their  King  to  see, 

Nor  ever  had  been  heirs  of  dark  mortality? 

Ask,  and  some  angel  will  reply, 

“ These,  like  yourselves,  were  born  to  sin  and  diev 
But  ere  the  poison  root  was  grown, 

God  set  his  seal,  and  mark’d  them  for  his  own. 

Baptized  in  blood  for  Jesus’  sake, 

Now  underneath  the  Cross  their  bed  they  make, 
Not  to  be  scared  from  that  sure  rest 
By  frighten’d  mother’s  shriek,  or  warrior’s  wav- 
ing crest.” 

Mindful  of  these,  the  first-fruits  sweet 
Borne  by  the  suffering  Church,  her  Lord  to  greet ; 

Bless’d  Jesus  ever  loved  to  trace 
The  “innocent  brightness”  rrf  an  infant’s  face. 

He  raised  them  in  his  holy  arms, 

He  bless’d  them  from  th,e  world  and  all  its  harms : 
Heirs  though  they  were  of  sin  and  shame. 

He  bless’d  them  in  his  own  and  in  his  Father’s 
name. 

Then,  as  each  fond  unconscious  child 
On  th’  everlasting  Parent  sweetly  smiled,  ; 

(Like  infants  sporting  on  the  shore,  | 

That  tremble  not  at  Ocean’s  boundless  roar,)  ; 

Were  they  not  present  to  thy  thought,  ; 

All  souls,  that  in  their  cradles  thou  hast  bought  ? ! 


FITIST  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS. 


49  5 


But  chiefly  these,  who  died  for  Thee, 

; That  thou  might’st  live,  for  them  a sadder  death 
to  see.  $ 

And  next  to  these,  thy  gracious  word 
| Was,  as  a pledge  of  benediction,  stored 
For  Christian  mothers,  while  they  moan 
| Their  treasured  hopes,  just  born,  baptized,  and  \ 
gone. 

Oh  ! joy  for  Rachel’s  broken  heart  ! 

; She  and  her  babes  shall  meet  no  more  to  part ; 

So  dear  to  Christ  her  pious  haste 
; To  trust  them  in  his  arms,  for  ever  safe  embraced.  ] 

She  dares  not  grudge  to  leave  them  there, 
Where  to  behold  them  was  her  heart’s  first  prayer;  $ 
She  dares  not  grieve— but  she  must  weep, 

As  her  pale  placid  martyr  sinks  to  sleep, 

Teaching  so  well  and  silently 
How,  at.  the  Shepherd’s  call,  the  lamb  should  die : ^ 
How  happier  far  than  life  the  end 
Of  souls  that  infant-like  beneath  their  burden  ] 
bend. 

FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS. 

THE  SUN-DIAL  OF  AHAZ. 

So  the  sun  returned  ten  degrees,  by  which  degrees  j 
it  was  gone  down.  — Isaiah  xxxviii.  8.  (Compare  Josh.  5 
x.  13.)  [First  Evening  Lesson,  Church  of  England  $ 
Prayer  Book.] 

[Almighty  God,  who  hast  given  us  thy  only  begot-  $ 
ten  Son  to  take  our  nature  upon  him,  and  as  at  this  \ 
time  to  be  born  of  a pure  Virgin  ; grant  that  we,  being  < 
regenerate  and  made  thy  children  by  adoption  and  < 
grace,  may  daily  be  renewed  by  thy  Holy  Spirit,  < 
through  the  same  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  who  livelh  < 
and  reigneth  with  thee  and  the  same  Spirit,  ever  one  ^ 
God,  world  without  end.  Amen .1 


4 


$ 50  FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS. 

’Tis  true,  of  old  th’  unchanging  sun 
His  daily  course  refused  to  run  ; 

The  pale  moon  hurrying  to  the  west 
Paused  at  a mortal’s  call,*  to  aid 
Th’  avenging  storm  of  war,  that  laid 
^ Seven  guilty  realms  at  oncej  on  earth’s  defiled  ! 
breast. 

But  can  it  be,  one  suppliant  tear 
Should  stay  the  ever-moving  sphere  ? 

A sick  man’s  lowly  breathed  sigh, 

When  from  the  world  he  turns  away,J 
And  hides  his  weary  eyes  to  pray, 
i Should  change  your  mystic  dance,  ye  wanderers  \ 
of  the  sky  ? 

We  too,  O Lord,  would  fain  command, 

As  then,  thy  wonder-working  hand, 

And  backward  force  the  waves  of  time, 
That  now  so  swift  and  silent  bear 
Our  restless  bark  from  year  to  year ; 

[ Help  us  to  pause  and  mourn  to  Thee  our  tale  of  ; 
crime. 

Bright  hopes,  that  erst  the  bosom  warm’d, 
And  vows,  too  pure  to  be  perform’d, 

And  prayers  blown  wide  by  gales  of  care  ; — < 
These,  and  such  faint  half-waking  dreams, 
Like  stormy  lights  on  mountain  streams, 

! Wavering  and  broken  all,  athwart  the  conscience  < 
glare. 


* [Joshua.] 

tL  l’he  Canaanites,  and  the  Hittites,  and  the  Hivites,  < 
? and  the  Pefizziies,  and  theGirgashites,  and  the  Amor-  ' 
s ites,  and  the  Jebusites.J 

\ J And  Hezekiah  turned  his  face  towards  the  wall, 

< and  prayed  unto  the  Lord. — Isaiah  xxxviii.  i2. 


FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS.  51 

How  shall  we  ’scape  th’ o’erwhelming  past? 
Can  spirits  broken,  joys  o’ercast, 

And  eyes  that  never  more  may  smile, — 
Can  these  th’  avenging  bolt  delay, 

Or  win  us  back  one  little  day, 

> The  bitterness  of  death  to  soften  and  beguile  ? 

Father  and  lover  of  our  souls  ! v 
Though  darkly  round  thine  anger  rolls, 

Thy  sunshine  smiles  beneath  the  gloom  ; 
Thou  seek’st  to  warn  us,  not  confound, 

Thy  showers  would  pierce  the  harden’d  ground, 
’ And  win  it  to  give  out  its  brightness  and  per- 
fume. 

Thou  smil’st  on  us  in  wrath,  and  We, 

Even  in  remorse,  would  smile  on  Thee; 

The  tears  that  bathe  our  offer’d  hearts, 

We  would  not  have  them  stain’d  and  dim, 
But  dropped  from  wings  of  seraphim, 

» All  glowing  with  the  light  accepted  Jove  imparts. 

Time’s  waters  will  not  ebb  nor  stay, 

Power  cannot  change  them,  but  love  may  ; 

What  cannot  be,  love  counts  it  done. 

Deep  in  the  heart,  her  searching  view 
Can  read  where  faith  is  fix’d  and  true, 

? Through  shades  of  setting  life  can  see  Heaven’s 
work  begun. 

O Thou,  who  keep’st  the  key  of  love, 

Open  thy  fount,  eternal  Dove, 

And  overflow  this  heart  of  mine,* 


' [“ send  thy  Holy  Ghost,  and  pour  into  our  ? 

| hearts  that  most  excellent  gift  of  charity,  the  very  bond  s 
i of  peace  and  of  all  viHues  ; without  which  whosoever  $ 
| liveth  is  counted  dead  before  thee.”  Collect  for  Quin- 
> quagesima  Sunday.] 


\ 52 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  OF  CHRIST. 


Enlarging  as  it  fills  with  Thee, 

Till  in  one  bkize  of  charity 
! Care  and  remorse  are  lost,  like  motes  in  light  < 
divine ; 

Till,  as  each  moment  wafts  us  higher, 

By  every  gush  of  pure  desire, 

And  high-breathed  hope  of  joys  above, 

By  every  sacred  sigh  we  heave. 

Whole  years  of  tolly  we  outlive, 

! In  His  unerring  sight,  who  measures  life  by  love.  I 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  OE  CHRIST.* 

[JANUARY  l.J 

In  whom  also  ye  are  circumcised  with  the  circum-  i 
cision  made  without  hands.  — Colossians  ii.  11.  [Ne- 
| cond  Evening  Lesson.] 

[Almighty  God,  who  madest  thy  blessed  Son  to  be  J 
circumcised,  and  obedient  to  the  law  lor  man;  grant  j 
us  the  true  circumcision  of  the  Spirit,  that,  our  hearts  ! 
and  all  our  members  being  mortified  from  all  worldly 
and  carnal  lusts,  we  may  in  all  things  obey  thy  blessed 
will,  through  the  same  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  uur  Lord. 

[ Amen.] 

The  year  begins  With  Thee, 

And  thou  beginn’st  with  woe. 

To  let  the  world  of  sinners  see 
That  blood  for  sin  must  flow. 


* [Jesus  Christ,  taking  our  nature  upon  him,  and  ; 
\ becoming  obedient  to  the  law  for  our  sakes,  was  cir-  < 
! cumcised  on  the  eighth  day,  that  he  might  “ fulfil  all  ; 
5 righteousness.5'] 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  OF  CHRIST.  53  j 

Thine  infant  cries,  O Lord, 

Thy  tears  upon  the  breast, 

Are  not  enough— the  legal  sword 
Must  do  its  stern  behest. 

Like  sacrificial  wine 
Poured  on  a victim’s  head, 

Are  those  few  precious  drops  of  thine, 

Now  first  to  offering  led. 

They  are  the  pledge  and  seal 
Of  Christ’s  unswerving  faith, 

Given  to  his  Sire,  our  souls  to  heal, 

Although  it  cost  his  death. 

They  to  his  Church  of  old, 

To  each  true  Jewish  heart, 

In  Gospel  graces  manifold, 

Communion  blest  impart. 

Now  of  thy  love  we  deem 
As  of  an  ocean  vast, 

Mounting  in  tides  against  the  stream 
Of  ages  gone  and  past. 

Both  theirs  and  ours  Thou  art, 

As  we  and  they  are  thine ; 

Kings,  prophets,  patriarchs — all  have  part 
Along  the  sacred  line. 

By  blood  and  water  too* 

God’s  mark  is  set  on  Thee, 

That  in  Thee  every  faithful  view 
Both  covenants  might  see. 


* [Jesus  was  baptized  as  well  as  circumcised.] 


54 


THE  CIRCUMCISION  OF  CHRIST. 


+ 


O bond  of  union,  dpar 
And  strong  as  is  Thy  grace! 
Saints,  parted  by  a thousand  years, 
May  thus  in  heart  embrace. 


Is  there  a mourner  true, 

Who,  fallen  on  faithless  days, 
Sighs  for  the  heart-consoling  view 

Of  those  Heaven  deign’d  to  praise  ? 

In  spirit  may’st  thou  meet 
With  faithful  Abraham  here, 
Whom  soon  in  Eden  thou  slialt  greet 
A nursing  father  dear. 


Would’st  thou  a poet  be  ? 

And  would  thy  dull  heart  fain 
Borrow  of  Israel’s  minstrelsy 
One  high  enraptured  strain  ? 

Colne  here  thy  soul  to  tune, 

Here  set  thy  feeble  chant. 

Here,  if  at  all  beneath  the  nioon, 

Is  holy  David’s  haunt. 

Art  thou  a child  of  tears, 

Cradled  in  care  and  wo? 

And  seems  it  hard,  thy  vernal  years 
Few  vernal  joys  can  show  ? 

And  fall  the  sounds  of  mirth 
Sad  on  tliy  lonely  heart, 

From  all  the  hopes  and  charms  of  earth 
Untimely  called  to  part  ? 

Look  here,  and  hold  thy  peace  : 

The  Giver  of  all  good 
Even  from  the  womb  takes  no  release 
From  suffering,  tears  and  blood. 


* 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS.  55  \ 

If  thou  would’st  reap  in  love, 

First  sow  in  holy  fear: 

So  life  a winter’s  morn  may  prove 
To  a bright  endless  year. 


\ SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS.  ; 

THE  PILGRIM’S  SONG. 

| When  the  poor  and  needy  seek  water,  and  there  is  J 
! none,  and  their  tpngue  faileth  for  thirst,  I the  Lord  ) 
’ will  hear  them,  I the  God  of  Israel  will  not  forsake  { 
[ them.  Isaiah  xli.  17.  {First  Morning  Lesson .] 

[Almighty  God,  who  madest  thy  blessed  Son  to  be  < 
[ circumcised,  and  obedienl  to  !he  law  for  man  ; grant  \ 
, us  the  true  circumcision  of  the  Spirit,  that,  our  hearts  < 
’ and  our  members  being  mortified  from  all  worldly  and  < 

> carnal  lusts,  we  may  in  all  things  obey  tby  blessed 
( will,  through  the  samethy  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

> Arnen.] 

And  wilt  Thou  hear  the  fever’d  heart 
To  Thee  in  silence  cry  ? 

And  as  th’  inconstant  wildfires  dart 
Out  of  the  restless  eye, 

Wilt  Thou  forgive  the  wayward  thought, 

By  kindly  woeb  yet  half  untaught 
A Saviour’s  right,  so  dearly  bought, 

That  hope  should  never  die  ? 

Thou  wilt : for  many  a languid  prayer 
Has  reach’d  Thee  from  the  wild, 

Since  the  lorn  mother,  wandering  there, 

Cast  down  her  fainting  child  ;* 

* Hagar.  See  Gen.  xxi.  15. 


\ 56  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS. 

Then  stole  apart  to  weep  and  die, 

Nor  knew  an  angel  form  was  nigh. 

To  show  soft  waters  gushing  by, 

And  dewy  shadows  mild. 

Thou  wilt — for  Thou  art  Israel’s  God, 

And  thine  unwearied  arm 
Is  ready  yet  with  Moses’  rod, 

The  hidden  rill  to  charm 
Out  of  the  dry  unfathom’d  deep  - 
Of  sands,  that  lie  in  lifeless  sleep, 

Save  when  the  scorching  whirlwinds  heap 
Their  waves  in  rude  alarm. 

These  moments  of  wild  wrath  are  thine — 
Thine  too  the  drearier  hour, 

When  o'er  th’  horizon’s  silent  line 
Fond  hopeless  fancies  cower, 

And  on  the  traveller’s  listless  way 
Rises  and  sets  th’  unchanging  day, 

No  cloud  in  heaven  to  slake  its  ray, 

On  earth  no  sheltering  bower. 

Thou  wilt  be  there,  and  not  forsake, 

To  turn  the  bitter  pool 
Into  a bright  and  breezy  lake, 

The  throbbing  brow  to  cool : 

Till,  left  awhile  with  Thee  alone. 

The  wilful  heart  be  fain  to  own 
That  He,  by  whom  our  bright  hours  shone, 
Our  darkness  best  may  rule. 

The  scent  of  water  far  away* 

Upon  the  breeze  is  flung ; 

The  desert  pelican  to-day 
Securely  leaves  her  young. 

* [“  Though  the  root  thereof  wax  old  in  the  earth.  $ 
and  the  stock  thereof  die  in  the  ground  ; yet  through  < 


r 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  CHRISTMAS.  57  j 

Reproving  thankless  man,  who  fears 
To  journey  on  a few  lone  years. 

Where  on  the  sand  thy  step  appears, 

Thy  crown  in  sight  is  hung. 

Thou,  who  didst  sit  on  Jacob’s  well 
The  weary  hour  of  noon,* 

The  languid  pulses  Thou  canst  tell, 

The  nerveless  spirit  tune. 

Thou  from  whose  cross  in  anguish  burst 
The  cry  that  own’d  thy  dying  thirst.t 
To  Thee  we  turn,  our  last  and  first, 

Our  Sun  and  soothing  Moon. 

From  darkness,  here,  and  dreariness 
We  ask  not  full  repose  ; 

Only  be  Thou  at  hand  to  bless 
Our  trial  hour  of  woes. 

Is  not  the  pilgrim’s  toil  o’erpaid 
By  the  clear  rill  and  palmy  shade  ? 

And  see  we  not,  up  earth’s  dark  glade, 

The  gate  of  heaven  unclose  ? 


J the  scent  of  water  it  will  bud  and  bring  forth  boughs 

> like  a plant.”  Job  xiv.  8,  9.  “The  extraordinary 
J scent  of  the  camel  enables  him  to  discover  water  at  a 

> great  distance ; and  thus  in  the  wildest  regions  of  the 

> desert,  the  caravan  is  often  preserved  from  destruction 

> by  this  instinct.” — “ Having  wandered  about  for  a 

> long  time,”  says  Burckhardt.  speaking  of  a traveller  in 
£ search  of  water,  “he  alighted  under  the  shade  of  a 

> tree  and  tied  the  camel  to  one  of  its  branches ; the 
! beast,  however,  smelt  the  water,  (as  the  Arabs  express 
( it,)  and,  wearied  as  it  was,  broke  its  halter,  and  sat  off 

> galloping  furiously  in  the  direction  of  the  spring,  which, 

( as  it  afterwards  appeared,  was  at  half  an  hour’s  dis- 
f tance.” — Library  of  Entertaining  Knowledge,  vol.  i.] 

* St.  John  iv.  6.  t St.  John  xix.  28. 


58 


THE  EPIPHANY.* 

[JANUARY  6.] 


THE  EPIPHANY, 


>0 


And,  lo,  the  star,  which  they  saw  in  the  east.,  went 
before  them  tili  it  came  and  stood  over  where  the 
young  child  was.  When  they  saw  the  star,  they  re- 
joiced with  exceeding  great  joy.—  St.  Mutt.  ii.  9,  10. 
[Gospel  for  the  Day.'] 

[O  God,  who  by  thejeading  of  a star  didst  manifest 
thy  only  begotten  Son  to  the  Gentiles  ; mercifully 
grant  that  we,  who  know  thee  now  by  faith,  may 
after  this  life  have  the  fruition  of  thy  glorious  God- 
head, through  Jesus^  Christ  our  Cord.— Amen.} 

Star  of  the  east ! how  sweet  art  Thou, 

Seen  in  life’s  early  morning  Sky, 

Ere  yet  a cloud  has  dimm’d  the  brow, 

While  yet  we  gaze  with  childish  eye ; 

When  father,  mother,  nursing  friend, 

Most  dearly  loved,  and  loving  best, 

First  bid  us  from  their  arms  ascend, 

Pointing  to  Thee  in  thy  Sure  rest. 

Too  soon  the  glare  of  earthly  day 
Buries  to  us  thy  brightness  keen, 

And  we  are  left  to  find  our  way 
By  faith  and  hope  in  Thee  unseen. 


1*  [The  festival  of  the  Epiphany,  as  its  name  imports, 
commemorates  the  manifestation  of  Christ  to  the 
Gentiles,  as  represented  by  the  wise  men,  who  in  the 
eastern  land  in  which  they  dwelt,  having  seen  his 
star,  had  come  to  worship  him.] 


•+ 


THE  EPIPHANY.  59  * 

What  matter  ? it‘  the  waymarks  sure 
On  every  side  are  round  us  set, 

Soon  overleap’d,  but  not  obscure? 

’Tis  ours  to  mark  them  or  forget. 

What  matter?  if  in  calm  old  age 
Our  childhood’s  star  again  arise, 

Crowning  our  lonely  pilgrimage 

With  all  that  cheers  a wanderer’s  eyes? 

Ne’er  may  we  lose  it  from  our  sight 
Till  all  our  hopes  and  thoughts  are  led 

To  where  it  stays  its  lucid  flight 
Over  our  Saviour’s  lowly  bed. 

There,  swathed  in  humblest  poverty. 

On  chastity’s  meek  lap  enshrined, 

With  breathless  reverence  waiting  by, 

When  we  our  sovereign  Master  find, 

Will  not  the  long-forgotten  glow 
Of  mingled  joy  and  ftwe  return, 

When  stars  above  or  flowers  below 
First  made  o»ur  infant  spirits  burn? 

Look  on  us,  Lord,  and  take  our  parts 
Even  on  thy  throne  of  purity! 

From  these  our  proud  yet  grovelling  hearts 
Hide  not  thy  mild  forgiving  eye. 

Did  not  the  Gentile  Church  find  grace, 

Our  mother  dear,  this  favour’d  day? 

With  gold  and  myrrh  she  sought  thy  face,* 

Nor  didst  Thou  turn  thy  face  away. 


* [We  come  not  with  a costly  store, 
O Lord,  like  them  of  old, — 
The  masters  of  the  starry  lore, — 
From  Ophir’s  shore  of  gold : 


; 60 


THE  EPIPHANY. 


She  too,*  in  earlier,  purer  days, 

Had  watch’d  Thee  gleaming  faint  and  far- 
But,  wandering  in  self-chosen  ways, 

She  lost  Thee  quile,  thou  lovely  star. 

Yet  had  her  Father’s  finger  turn’d 
To  Thee  her  first  inquiring  glance : 

The  deeper  shame  within  her  burn’d 
When  waken’d  from  her  wilful  trance. 

Behold,  her  wisest  throng  thy  gate ; 

Their  richest^  sweetest,  purest  store 
(Yet  own’d  too  worthless  and  too  late) 

They  lavish  on  Thy  cottage -floor. 

They  give  their  best— O tenfold  shame 
On  us,  their  fallen  progeny, 

Who  sacrifice  the  blind  and  lamej — 

Who  will  not  wake|  or  fast  with  Thee ! 


No  weepings  of  the  incense  tree 
Are  with  the  gifts  we  bring, 

No  odorous  myrrh  of  Araby 
Blends  with  our  offering. 

But  still  our  love  would  bring  its  best, 

A spirit  keenly  tried 
By  fierce  affliction’s  fiery  test, 

And  seven  times  purified  : 

The  fragrant  graces  of  the  mind, 

The  virtues  that  delight 
To  give  their  perfume  out,  will  find 
Acceptance  in  thy  sight. 

Rev.  William  Cro swell .] 


*The  Patriarchal  Church. 


f Malachi  i.  8. 


| [“  What,  could  ye  not  watch  with  me  one  hour?” 
St.  Matthew  xxvi.  40. 


FIRST  SILNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


61  \ 


FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


THE  NIGHTINGALE. 

, They  shall  spring  up  as  among  the  grass,  as  willows  ] 
> by  the  water-courses. — Isaiah  xliv.  4.  [ First  Morn-  £ 

[ ing  Lesson, J 

[O  Lord,  we  beseech  thee  mercifully  to  receive  tho  > 
; prayers  of  thy  people  who  .call  upon  thee  ; and  grant  < 
. that  they  may  both  perceive  and  know  what  things  ? 
; they  ought  to  do,  and  also  may  have  grace  and  power  $ 
’ faithfully  to  fulfil  the  same,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  £ 
! Lord.  JimenA 

Lessons  sweet  of  spring  returning,* 
Welcome  to  the  thoughtful  heart! 

May  I call  ye  sense  or  learning, 

Instinct  pure,  or  heaven-taught  art? 

Be  your  title  what  it  may. 

Sweet  and  lengthening  April  day, 

While  with  you  the  soul  is  free, 

Ranging  wild  o’er  hill  and  lea. 


[ * [“  When  we  write  of  the  dawn  of  the  year,  of  the  s 

> new  races  of  birds  and  of  blossoms  that  arc  all  around  \ 
! us  springing  into  life,  our  utmost  efforts  can  give  but  S 
» one  enjoyment  to  the  reader.  But  he  who  goes  out  to  c 

observe,  has  pleasure  in  every  way  that  it  can  come,  > 
; and  health  along  with  it.  The  beauty  of  the  flowers  < 
' and  their  iragrance,  the  elegant  forms  and  varied  tints  \ 
! of  the  birds,  their  bustling  activity  and  sprightly  con- 
duct, and  the  music  of  their  songs  ; the  sportive  gam- 
bols of  the  young  animals,  and  the  tender  solicitude  > 
, that  is  shown  for  them  by  the  old,  and  all  that  is,  and  < 

> all  that  occurs  in  the  earth,  the  waters  and  the  air,  is  a ? 
( constant  creation,— a daily,  nay,  an  hourly  springing  s 

up  of  new  worlds : and  he  who  lives  one  spring  in  the  l 

> open  air,  may  watch  the  whole  progress  of  a hundred  ) 


: 62 


FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


Soft  as  Memnon’s  harp  at  morning, 

To  the  inward  ear  devout, 

Touch’d  by  light,  with  heavenly  warning 
Your  transporting  chords  ring  out. 
Every  leaf  in  every  nook, 

Every  wave  in  every  brook, 

Chanting  with  a kolemri  voice, 

Minds  us  of  our  better  choice. 

Needs  no  show  of  mountain  hoary. 
Winding  shore  or  deepening  glen, 
Where  the  landscape  in  its  glory 
Teaches  truth  to  wandering  men : 

Give  true  hearts  but  earth  and  sky, 

And  some  flowers  to  bloom  and  die, — * 
Homely  scenes  and  simple  views 
Lowly  thoughts  may  best  infuse. 


| generations.  Nature  is  then  4 voice  all  over,’  and  s 
' whether  she  speaks  to  one  of  >he  senses,  or  to  them  all,  t 
> she  always  speaks  instruction.”  Mudie's  British  Na-  > 
1 turalist .]  < 

*[“Come  quietly  away  with  me,  and  we  will  walk  t 
up  and  down  the  narrow  path,  by  the  sweet-brier  ? 
hedge  ; and  we  will  listen  to  the  low  song  of  the  black-  S 
bird,  and  the  fresh  air  will  cool  our  aching  brows,  and  t 
we  shall  find  comfort.  To  these  things,  fresh  air,  and  ) 
the  bird’s  song,  and  the  fragrance  of  the  lowly  flowers, 
God  has  given  a blessing  ; like  sleep,  they  are  his  me- 
dicines,— 4 balm  of  sweet  minds!’  We  will  walk  to 
and  fro  under  the  shade  of  these  elms,  and  we  will  be  £ 
calm;  bitter  recollections  shall  he  made  sweet  by  the  ) 
thought  of  his  mercies;  and  in  the  midst  of  the  sor-  \ 
rows  we  have  in  our  hearts,  his  comforts  shall  refresh  } 
our  souls;  and  our  minds  shall  be  stored  with  many  S 
thoughts,  sweet,  like  the  perfume  of  these  flowers.” — ’ 
Scenes  in  our  Parish. 


FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY.  63  \ 

See  the  soft  green  willow  springing 
Where  the  waters  gently  pass, 

Every  way  her  free  arms  flinging 
O’er  the  moss  and  reedy  grass. 

Long  ere  winter  blasts  are  fled, 

See  her  tipp’d  with  vernal  red, 

And  her  kindly  flower  display’d 
Ere  her  leaf  can  cast  a shade. 

Though  the  rudest  hand  assail  her, 

Patiently  she  droops  awhile, 

But  when  showers  and  breezes  hail  her, 
Wears  4gain  her  willing  smile. 

Thus  I learn  contentment's  power 
From  the  slighted  willow  bovver, 

Ready  to  give  thanks  and  live 
On  the  least  that  Heaven  may  give. 

If,  the  quiet  brooklet  leaving. 

Up  the  stony  vale  I wind, 

Haply  half  in  fancy  grieving 
For  the  shades  I leave  behind, 

By  the  dusty  wayside  drear. 

Nightingales  with  joyous  cheer 
Sing,  my  sadness  to  reprove, 

Gladlier  t^an  in  cultured  grove. 

Where  the  thickest  boughs  are  twining 
Of  the  greenest,  darkest  tree. 

There  they  plunge,  the  light  declining — 

All  may  hear,  but  none  may  see. 

Fearless  of  the  passing  hoof, 

Hardly  will  they  fleet  aloof; 

So  they  live  in  modest  ways, 

Trust  entire,  and  ceaseless  praise. 


I 


< 64  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


1 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AETEB,  EPIPHANY. 

THE  SECRET  OF  PERPETUAL  YOUTH. 

Every  man  at  the  beginning  doth  set  forth  good  wine, 

5 and  when  men  have  well  drunk,  then  that  which  is  ; 
: worse  ; but  thou  hast  kept  the  good  wine  until  now.— 

> St.  John  ii.  10.  [Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[Almighty  and  everlasting  God.  who  dost  govern  all  £ 
? things  in  heaven  and  earth;  mercifully  hear  the  sup-  ? 
S plications  of  thy  people,  and  grant  us  thy  peace  all  i 
< the  days  of  our  life,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  \ 
$ Amen.] 

The  heart  of  childhood  is  all  mirth : 

We  frolic  to  and  fro 
As  free  and  blithe,  as  if  on  earth 
Were  no  such  thing  as  wo. 

But  if  indeed  with  reckless  faith 
We  trust  the  flattering  voice 
Which  whispers,  “ Take  thy  fill  ere  death  ; 
Indulge  thee  and  rejoice—” 

Too  surely,  every  setting  day, 

Some  lost  delight  we  mourn. 

The  flowers  all  die  along  our  way, 

Till  we,  too,  die  forlorn. 

Such  is  the  world’s  gay  garish  feast. 

In  her  first  charming  bowl 
Infusing  all  that  fires  the  breast, 

And  cheats  th’  unstable  soul. 

And  still,  as  loud  the  revel  swells, 

The  fever’d  pulse  beats  higher, 

Till  the  sear’d  taste  from  foulest  wells 
Is  fain  to  slake  its  fire. 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY.  65 


Unlike  the  feast  of  heavenly  love 
Spread  at  the  Saviour’s  word 
For  souls  that  hear  his  call,  and  prove 
Meet  for  his  bridal  board. 


Why  should  we  fear  youth’s  draught  of  joy, 
If  pure,  would  sparkle  less  ? 

Why  should  the  cup  the  sooner  cloy, 

Which  God  hath  deign’d  to  bless? 

For,  is  it  hope,  that  thrills  so  keen 
Along  each  bounding  vein, 

Still  whispering  glorious  things  unseen  ? — 
Faith  makes  the  vision  plain. 

The  world  would  kill  her  soon:  but  Faith 
Her  daring  dreams  will  cherish, 

Speeding  her  gaze  o’er  time  and  death 
To  realms  where  naught  can  perish. 

Or  is  it  love,  the  dear  delight 
Of  hearts  that  know  no  guile, 

That  all  around  see  all  things  bright 
With  their  own  magic  smile? 

The  silent  joy,  that  sinks  so  deep, 

Of  confidence  and  rest. 

Lull’d  in  a father’s  arms  to  sleep, 

Clasp’d  to  a mother’s  breast  ? 

Who,  but  a Christian,  through  all  life 
That  blessing  may  prolong  ? 

Who,  through  the  world’s  sad  day  of  strife. 
Still  chant  his  morning  song? 

Fathers  may  hate  us  or  forsake, 

God’s  foundlings  then  are  we 


; 66  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 

Mother  on  child  no  pity  take,* 

But  we  shall  still  have  Thee. 

We  may  look  home,  and  seek  in  vain 
A fond  fraternal  heart, 

But  Christ  hath  given  his  promise  plain 
To  do  a brother’s  part. 

Nor  shall  dull  age,  as  worldlings  say, 

The  heavenward  flame  annoy: 

The  Saviour  cannot  pass  away, 

And  with  him  lives  our  joy. 

Ever  the  richest,  tenderest  glow 
Sets  round  111’  autumnal  sun — 

But  there  sight  fails ; no  heart  may  know 
The  bliss  when  life  is  done. 

Such  is  thy  banquet,  dearest  Lord  ; 

O give  us  grace,  to  cast 
Our  lot  with  thine,  to  trust  thy  word* 
And  keep  our  best  till  last. 


I 


* Can  a woman  forget  her  suckling  child,  that  she 
Jj  should  not  have  compassion  on  the  son  of  her  womb  ? 
< yea,  they  may  forget,  yet  will  1 not  forget  thee.  Isaiah 
? xlix.  15. 


THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY.  67  \ 


THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


THE  GOOD  CENTURION. 

; When  Jesus  heard  it,  he  marvelled,  and  said  to  them  < 

> that  followed,  Verily  1 say  unto  you,  I have  not  found  ) 

> so  great  faith,  no  not  in  Israel.  St.  Matthew  viii.  10.  £ 
\ [.Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  mercifully  look  upon  £ 
’ our  infirmities,  and  in  all  our  dangers  and  necessities^ 

> stretch  forth  thy  right  hand  to  help  and  defend  us.  ^ 
i through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

I mark’d  a rainbow  in  the  north-, 

What  time  the  wild  autumnal  sun 
From  his  dark  veil  at  noen  look’d  forth, 

As  glorying  in  his  course  half  done, 

Flinging  soft  radiance  far  and  wide 
; Over  the  dusky  heaven  and  bleak  hill  side. 

It  was  a gleam  to  memory  dear, 

And  as  I walk  and  muse  apart, 

When  all  seems  faithless  round  and  drear, 

I would  revive  it  in  my  heart, 

And  watch  how  light  can  find  its  way 
’ To  regions  farthest  from  the  fount  of  day 

Light  flashes  in  the  gloomiest  sky 
And  music  in  the  dullest  plain. 

For  there  the  lark  is  soaring  high 
Over  her  flat  and  leafless  reign, 

And  chanting  in  so  blithe  a tone, 

; It  shames  the  weary  heart  to  feel  itself  alone. 

Brighter  than~rainbow  in  the  north. 

More  cheery  than  the  matin  lark, 


\ 68  THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTE*.  EPIPHANY. 

Is  the  soft  gleam  of  Christian  worth, 

Which  on  some  holy  house  we  mark, 

Dear  to  the  pastor’s  aching  heart 
\ To  think,  where’er  he  looks,  such  gleam  may 
have  a part ; 

Maj;  dwell,  unseen  by  all  but  Heaven, 

Like  diamond  blazing  in  the  mine  ; 

For  ever,  where  such  grace  is  given, 

It  fears  in  open  day  to  shine,* 

Lest  the  deep  stain  it  owns  within 
\ Break  out,  and  faith  be  shamed  by  the  believer’s 
sin. 

In  silence  and  afar  they  wait, 

To  find  a prayer  their  Lord  may  hear: 
Voice  of  the  poor  and  desolate, 

You  best  may  bring  it  to  his  ear. 

Your  grateful  intercessions  rise 
\ With  more  than  royal  pomp,  and  pierce  the  skies. 

» 

Happy  the  soul,  whose  precious  cause 
You  in  the  sovereign  presence  plead — 


* Lord,  1 am  not  worthy  that  thou  shoilldest  come  < 
{ under  my  roof. 

“ From  the  first  time  that  the  impressions  of  religion  | 
( settled  deeply  in  his  mind,  he  used  great  caution  to  j 
? conceal  it ; not  only  in  obedience  to  the  rulo  given  by  5 
s our  Saviour,  of  fasting,  praying,  and  giving  alms  in  < 
£ secret,  but  from  a particular  distrust  he  had  of  himself;  ? 
S for  he  said  he  was  afraid  he  should  at  some  time  or  5 
t other  do  some  enormous  thing,  which,  if  he  were  looked  l 
[ on  as  a very  religious  man,  might  cast  a reproach  on  $ 
s the  profession  of  it,  and  give  great  advantages  to  im- 
? pious  men  to  blaspheme  the  name  of  God.” — Burnet's 
i Life  of  Hale , in  Wordsworth' s Eccl.  Biog.  vi.  73. 


t 


THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY.  69  j 

“ This  is  the  lover  of  thy  laws,* 

“ The  friend  of  thine  in  fear  and  need,” 

For  to  the  poor  thy  mercy  lends 
j That  solemn  style,  “ thy  nation  and  thy  friends.”  j 

He  too  is  blest,  whose  outward  eye 
The  graceful  lines  of  art  may  trace, 

While  his  free  spirit,  soaring  high, 

Discerns  the  glorious  from  the  base  ; 

Till  out  of  dust  his  magic  raisef 
j A home  for  prayer  and  love,  and  full  harmonious  £ 
praise, 

Where  far  away  and  high  above, 

In  maze  on  maze  the  tranced  sight 
Strays,  mindful  of  that  heavenly  love 
Which  knows  no  end  in  depth  or  height, 
While  the  strong  breath  of  music  seems 
l To  waft  us  ever  on,  soaring  in  blissful  dreams.} 

What  though  in  poor  and  humble  guise 
Thou  here  didst  sojourn,  cottage-born  ? 

Yet  from  thy  glory  in  the  skies 
Our  earthly  gold  Thou  dost  not  scorn. 

For  love  delights  to  bring  her  best, 

; And  where  love  is,  that  offering  evermore  is  [ 
blest. 

Love  on  the  Saviour’s  dying  head 
Her  spikenard  drops  unblamed  may  pour. 


* He  loveth  our  nation, 
t He  hath  built  us  a synagogue. 

s 1 tin  this  and  the  former  stanza  allusion  is  made  to  £ 
? William  of  Wykeham,  and  Winchester  cathedral.  < 
S The  Gothic  architecture  and  cathedral  music  are  < 
[ beautifully  hinted  at.] 


May  mount  his  cross,  and  wrap  him,  dead, 

In  spices  from  the  golden  shore  ;* 

Risen,  may  embalm  his  sacred  name 
; With  all  a painter’s  art,  and  all  a minstrel’s  flame. 

Worthless  and  lost  our  offerings  seem, 

Drops  in  the  ocean  of  his  praise ; 

But  mercy  with  her  genial  beam 
Is  ripening  them  to  pearly  blaze 
To  sparkle  in  His  crown  above, 

| Who  welcomes  here  a child’s  as  there  an  angel’s 
love. 


\ FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 

THE  WORLD  IS  FOR  EXCITEMENT,  THE  GOSPEL 
FQR  SOOTHING. 

) When  they  saw  him,  they  besought  him  to  depart ) 

> out  of  their  coasts.  St.  Matthew  viii.  34.  L Gospel  s 

l for  the  Day.}  % ? 

LO  God,  who  knowest  us  to  be  set  in  the  midst,  of) 

> so  many  and  great  dangers,  that  by  reason  of  the  frailty  s 

> of  our  nature  we  cannot  always  stand  upright;  grant  ? 

> to  us  such  strength  and  protection,  as  may  support  us  i 
5 in  all  dangers,  and  carry  us  through  all  temptations,  < 

> through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen. J > 

They  know  th’  Almighty’s  power,  \ 

Who,  waken’d  by  the  rushing  midnight  shower,  \ 
Watch  for  the  fitful  breeze 
To  howl  and  chafe  amid  the  bending  trees— 


* St.  John  xii.  7 ; xix.  30. 


"I*  FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY.  71  "f 


Watch  for  the  still  white  gleam  < 

To  bathe  the  landscape  in  a fiery  stream^  i 
Touching  the  tremulous  eye  with  sense  of  light  t. 
Too  rapid  and  too  pure  for  all  but  angel  sight.  i 

They  know  th’  Almighty’s  love, 

Who,  when  the  whirlwinds  rock  the  topmost  > 
grove,  - > 

Stand  in  the  shade,  and  hear  < 

The  tumult  with  a deep  exulting  fear,  s 

How  in  their  fiercest  sway,  s 

Curb’d  by  some  power  unseen,  they  die  away,  < 
Like  a bold  steed  that  owns  his  rider’s  arm,  l 
Proud  to  be  check’d  and  soothed  by  that  o’er-  i 
mastering  charm.  > 

But  there  are  storms  within  > 

That  heave  the  struggling  heart  with  wilder  din ; s 
And  there  are  power  and  love  s 

The  maniac’s  rushing  frenzy  to  reprove  ; 

And  when  he  takes  his  sent,  f 

Clothed  and  in  calmness,  at  his  Saviour’s  feet,*  j 
Is  not  the  power  as  strange,  the  love  as  blest,  j 
As  when  He  said,  be  still,  and  ocean  sank  to  rest  ? I 

Wo  to  the  wayward  heart  j 

That  gladlier  turns  to  eye  the  shuddering  start  ; 

Of  passion  in  her  might, 

Than  marks  the  silentgrowthofgrace  and  light;  5 
Pleased  in  the  cheerless  tomb  s 

To  linger,  while  the  morning  rays  illume  s 
Green  lake,  and  cedar  tuft,  and  spicy  glade,  < 
Shaking  their  dewy  tresses  now  the  storm  is  laid.  < 


( 

4 


72  FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


The  storm  is  laid— and  now 
In  his  meek  power  He  climbs  the  mountain’s 


Who  bade  the  waves  go  sleep, 

And  lash’d  the  vex’d  fiends  to  their  yawning 


How  on  a rock  they  stand, 

Who  watch  his  eye,  and  hold  his  guiding  hand ! 
Not  half  so  fix’d,  amid  her  vassal  hills, 


Rises  the  holy  pile  that  Kedron’s  valley  fills.  i 

And  wilt  thou  seek  again  \ 

Thy  howling  waste,  thy  charnel-house  and  s 
chain,  < 

And  with  the  demons  be,  < 

Rather  than  clasp  thine  own  Deliverer’s  knee  ? < 
Sure  ’tis  no  heaven-bred  awe  t 

That  bids  thee  from  his  healing  touch  withdraw:  > 
The  world  and  He  are  struggling  in  thine  heart,  > 
And  in  thy  reckless  mood  thou  bidd’st  thy  Lord  ] 
depart.  j 

He,  merciful  and  mild,  j 

As  erst,  beholding,  loves  his  wayward  child ; ( 

When  souls  of  highest  birth  j 

Waste  their  impassion’d  might  on  dreams  of  > 

earth,  > 

He  opens  nature’s  book,  j 

And  on  his  glorious  gospel  bids  them  look,  l 

Till  by  such  chords  as  rule  the  choirs  above,  \ 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY.  73  \ 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


CURE  SIN  AND  YOU  CURE  SORROW. 

Behold,  the  Lord’s  hand  is  not  shortened,  that  it  | 
) cannot  save,  neither  his  ear  heavy,  that  it  cannot  hear:  ) 
< but  your  iniquities  have  separated  between  you  and  s 
? your  God.  Isaiah  lix,  1,  2.  [ First  Morning  Lesson  £ 
\ for  the  Day,  Church  of  England  Service .] 

O Lord,  we  beseech  thee  to  keep  thy  Church  and  \ 
> Household  continually  in  thy  true  religion,  that  they  ( 
5 who  do  lean  only  upon  the  hope  of  thy  heavenly  grace,  > 
c may  evermore  be  defended  by  thy  mighty  power,  £ 
£ through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen. 

“Awake,  arm  divine  ! awake, 

Eye  of  the  only  Wise  ! 

Now  for  thy  glory’s  sake. 

Saviour  and  God,  arise  : 

And  may  thine  ear,  that  sealed  seems, 

In  pity  mark  our  mournful  themes!” 

Thus  in  her  lonely  hour 
Thy  Church  is  fain  to  cry. 

As  if  thy  love  and  power 
Were  vanish’d  from  her  sky  ; 

Yet  God  is  there,  and  at  his  side 
He  triumphs,  who  for  sinners  died. 

Ah!  ’tis  the  world  enthralls 
The  heaven-betrothed  breast ; 

The  traitor  sense  recalls 
The  soaring  soul  from  rest. 

That  bitter  sigh  was  all  for  earth, 

For  glories  gone  and  vanish’d  mirth. 

Age  would  to  youth  return, 

Farther  from  heaven  would  be. 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 

To  feel  the  wild  fire  burn, 

On  idolizing  knee 
Annin  to  fall,  and  rob  thy  shrine 
Of  hearts,  the  right  of  love  divine. 

Lord  of  this  erring  flock  ! 

Thou  whose  soft  showers  distil 
On  ocean  waste  or  rock, 

Free  as  on  Herrnon  hill — 

Do  Thou  our  craven  spirits  cheer, 

And  shame  away  the  selfish  tear. 

’Twas  silent  all  and  dead* 

Beside  the  barren  sea, 

Where  Philip’s  steps  were  led, 

Led  by  a voice  from  thee — 

He  rose  and  went,  nor  ask’d  Thee  why, 
Nor  stay’d  to  heave  one  faithless  sigh. 

Upon  his  lonely  way 
The  high  born  traveller  came, 
Reading  a mournful  lay 
Of  “ One  who  bore  our  shame  ;f 
Silent  himself,  his  name  untold, 

And  yet  his  glories  were  of  old.” 

To  muse  what  Heaven  might  mean, 
His  wondering  brow  he  raised, 

And  met  an  eye  serene 
That  on  him  watchful  gazed. 

No  hermit  o’er  so  welcome  cross’d 
A child’s  lone  path,  in  woodland  lost. 


I * See  Acts  viii.  26—40.  [“  Arise  and  go  toward  < 
the  south,  unto  the  way  that  gOeth  down  from  Jerusa-  5 
lem  unto  Gaza,  which  is  desert .”  A fine  specimen  of  < 
Keble’s  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  Scriptures,  in  \ 
( their  most  minute  details.] 

\ Isaiah  liii.  6—8. 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 

Now  wonder  turns  to  love  ; 

The  scrolls  of  sacred  lore 
No  darksome  mazes  prove ; 

The  desert  tires  no  more: 

They  bathe  where  holy  waters  flow,* 

Then  on  their  way  rejoicing  go.] 

They  part  to  meet  in  heaven  ; 

But  of  the  joy  they  share, 

Absolving  and  forgiven, 

The  sweet  remembrance  bear. 

Yes— mark  him  well,  ye  cold  and  proud, 
Bewildered  in  a heartless  crowd, 

Starting  and  turning  pale 
At  rumour’s  angry  din — 

No  storm  can  now  assail 
The  charm  lie  wears  within  ; 
Rejoicing  still  and  doing  good, 

And  with  the  thought  of  God  imbued. 

No  glare  of  high  estate, 

No  gloom  of  wo  or  want, 

The  radiance  can  abate 
Where  Heaven  delights  to  haunt ; 

Sin  only  hides  the  genial  ray, 

And,  round  the  Cross,  makes  night  of  day. 

Then  weep  it  from  thy  heart ; 

So  may’st  thou  duly  learn 
The  intercessor’s  part: 

Thy  prayers  and  tears  may  earn 
For  fallen  souls  some  healing  breath, 

Ere  they  have  died  th’  apostate’s  death. 


»1 


* [“  See.  here  is  water  ; what  doth  hinder  me  to  be  ) 
j baptized '?”] 

t [“And  he  went  on  his  way  rejoicing.”] 


76  SIXTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


SIXTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 

THE  BENEFITS  OF  UNCERTAINTY. 

Beloved,  now  are  we  the  sons  of  God,  and  it  doth 
) not.  yet  appear  what  we  shall  be  : but  we  know,  that, 

< when  He  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  iike  him.  for  we 
) shall  see  Him  as  he  is.  1 St.  John  iii.  2.  [Epistle  for 
[ the  Day.] 

[O  God,  whose  blessed  Son  was  manifested  that  he 
$ might  destroy  the  works  of  the  devil,  and  make  us  the 

< sons  of  God  and  heirs  of  eternal  life ; grant  us,  we 

I beseech  thee,  that  having  this  hope,  we  may  purify 
ourselves,  even  as  he  is  pure,  that  when  he  shall  ap- 
pear again  with  power  and  great  gloiy,  we  may  be 
made  like  unto  him  in  his  eternal  and  glorious  king- 
dom ; where,  with  thee,  O Father,  and  thee,  O Holy 
Ghost,  he  liveth  and  reigneth,  ever  one  God,  world 
without  end.  Amen.] 

There  are  who,  darkling  and  alone, 

Would  wish  the  weary  night  were  gone, 
Though  dawning  morn  should  only  show 
The  secret  of  their  unknown  wo; 

Who  pray  for  sharpest  throbs  of  pain 
To  ease  them  of  doubt’s  galling  chain  :< 

“ Only  disperse  the  cloud,”  they  cry, 
l “And  if  our  fate  be  death,  give  light  and  let  us 
die.”* 

Unwise  I deem  them,  Lord,  unmeet 
To  profit  by  thy  chastenings  sweet ; 

For  thou  would’st  have  us  linger  still 
Upon  the  verge  of  good  or  ill, 


* *Ev  Ss  (f>aei  Kai  oiXteraov.  The  prayer  of  Ajax— 
“ Light  though  I perish.”  Homer. 


SIXTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


77  i 


That  on  thy  guiding  hand  unseen 
Our  undivided  hearts  may  lean, 

And  this  our  frail  and  foundering  bark 
\ Glide  in  the  narrow  wake  of  thy  beloved  ark 

’Tis  so  in  war— the  champion  true 
$ Loves  victory  more,  when  dim  in  view 
\ He  sees  her  glories  gild  afar 
$ The  dusky  edge  of  stubborn  war, 

< Than  if  th’  untrodden  bloodless  field 

< The  harvest  of  her  laurels  yield ; 

< Let  not  my  bark  in  calm  abide, 

< But  win  her  fearless  way  against  the  chafing  tide.  \ 

? ’Tis  so  in  love — the  faithful  heart 
^ From  her  dim  vision  would  not  part, 

When  first  to  her  fond  gaze  is  given 
That  purest  spot  in  fancy’s  heaven, 

For  all  the  gorgeous  sky  beside, 

Though  pledged  her  own  and  sure  t’  abide  ; 
Dearer  than  every  past  noon-day 
j That  twilight  gleam  to  her,  though  faint  and  far  j 
away.* 

So  have  I seen  some  tender  flower. 

Prized  above  all  the  vernal  bower. 

Shelter’d  beneath  the  coolest  shade, 

Embosom’d  in  the  greenest  glade, 

So  frail  a gem,  it  scarce  may  bear 
| The  playful  touch  of  evening  air  ; 
l When  hardier  grown,  we  love  it  less,| 

] And  trust  it  from  our  sight,  not  needing  our  caress. 


j * [Heu,  quanto  minus  tui  meminisse  quam  reliquis 
> versari.  Shenstone’s  Epitaph  an  Miss  Dolman .1 
5 f [“  The  bird  that  we  nurse  is  ihe  bird  that  we  love.”] 


: 78  SIXTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EPIPHANY. 


And  wherefore  is  the  sweet  springtide 
Worth  all  the  changeful  year  beside? 

The  last-born  babe,  why  lies  its  part 
Deep  in  the  mother’s  inmost  heart  ? 

But  that  the  Lord  and  source  of  love 
Would  have  his  weakest  ever  prove 
Our  tenderest  care— and  most  of  all 
! Our  frail  immortal  souls,  His  work  and  Satan’s 
thrall. 

So  be  it,  Lord  ; I know  it  best, 

Though  not  as  yet  this  wayward  breast 
Beat  quite  in  answer  to  thy  voice, 

Yet  surely  I have  made  my  choice ; 

I know  not  yet  the  promised  bliss, 

Know  not  if  I shall  win  or  miss ; 

So  doubting,  rather  let  me  die, 

I Than  close  with  aught  beside,  to  last  eternally. 

What  is  the  heaven  we  idly  dream  ? 

The  self-deceiver’s  dreary  theme, 

A cloudless  sun  that  softly  shines, 

Bright  maidens  and  unfailing  vines, 

The  warrior’s  pride,  the  hunter’s  mirth, 

Poor  fragments  all  of  this  low  earth  ; 

Such  as  in  sleep  would  hardly  soothe 
; A soul  that  once  had  tasted  of  immortal  truth. 

What  is  the  heaven  our  God  bestows  ? 

No  prophet  yet,  no  angel  knows  ; 

Was  never  yet  created  eye 
Could  see  across  eternity ; 

Not  seraph’s  wing  for  ever  soaring 
Can  pass  the  flight  of  souls  adoring, 

That  nearer  still  and  nearer  grow 
! To  th’  unapproached  Lord,  once  made  for  them  | 
so  low. 


SEPTUAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 


79  \ 


< Unseen,  unfelt  their  earthly  growth, 

* And  self-accused  of  sin  and  sloth 
I They  live  and  die  : their  names  decay, 

I Their  fragrance  passes  quite  away  ; 

Like  violets  in  the  freezing  blast, 

No  vernal  steam  around  they  cast, — 

But  they  shall  flourish  from  the  tomb, 

The  breath  of  Goj>  shall  wake  them  into  odorous  \ 
bloom. 

Then  on  th’  incarnate  Saviour’s  breast. 

The  fount  of  sweetness,  they  shall  rest, 

Their  spirits  every  hour  imbued 
More  deeply  with  his  precious  blood. 

But  peace— still  voice  and  closed  eye 
Suit  best  w ith  hearts  beyond  the  sky, 

Hearts  training  in  their  low  abode, 

Daily  to  lose  themselves  in  hope  to  find  their  $ 
God. 


SEPTUAGESIMA  SUNDAY.* 

The  invisible  things  of  Him  from  the  creation  of  the  $ 
world  are  clearly  seen,  being  understood  by  the  things  < 
which  are  made. — Romans  i.  ‘20. 

[O  Lord,  we  beseech  thee  favourably  to  hear  the  \ 
I prayers  of  thy  people,  that  we,  who  are  justly  pun-  ( 

> ished  for  our  offences,  may  be  mercifully  delivered  by  > 
I thy  goodness,  for  the  glory  of  thy  name,  through  Jesus  < 
; Christ  our  Saviour,  who  liveth  and  reigneth  with  thee  \ 

> and  the  Holy  Ghost,  ever  one  God,  world  without  end. 

{ Amen.]  ___ 

' [The  three  Sundays  next  preceding  Lent  are  called, 

J respectively,  Septuagesima,  Sezagesima  and  Quin- 
quagesima  Sundays,  because  nearly  sevtnty,  sixty,  > 


There  is  a book,  who  runs  may  read, 

Which  heavenly  truth  imparts, 

And  all  the  lore  its  scholars  need, 

Pure  eyes  and  Christian  hearts. 

The  works  of  God  above,  below, 

Within  us  and  around, 

Are  pages  in  that  book,  to  show 
How  God  himself  is  found. 

The  glorious  sky  embracing  all 
Is  like  the  Maker’s  love, 

Wherewith  encompass’d,  great  and  small 
In  peace  and  order  move. 

The  moon  above,  the  Church  below, 

^ A wondrous  race  they  run, 

^ But  all  their  radiance,  all  their  glow, 

Each  borrows  of  its  Sun. 

\ The  Saviour  lends  the  light  and  heat) 

< That  crowns  his  holy  hill ; 

l The  saints,  like  stars,  around  his  seat, 

1 Perform  their  courses  still.* 

The  saints  above  are  stars  in  heaven — 
What  are  the  saints  oa  earth  ? 

Like  trees  they  stand  whom  God  has  given, f 
Our  Eden’s  happy  birth. 

Faith  is  their  fix’d  unswerving  root, 

Hope  their  unfading  flower, 

Fair  deeds  of  charity  their  fruit. 

The  glory  of  their  bower. 


! and  fifty  days  before  Easter.  The  services  appointed  ( 
> for  them  are  designed  as  a preparation  for  the  due  \ 
£ observance  of  the  Lenten  fast.] 

* Daniel  xii.  3.  t Isaiah  lx.  21. 


SEXAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 


81 ; 


The  dew  of  heaven  is  like  thy  grace,* 
It  steals  in  silence  down  ; 

But  where  it  lights,  the  favour’d  place 
By  richest  fruits  is  known. 

One  name  above  all  glorious  names 
With  its  ten  thousand  tongues 

The  everlasting  sea  proclaims, 
Echoing  angelic  songs. 

The  raging  fire,f  the  roaring  wind, 
Thy  boundless  power  display  : 

But  in  the  gentler  breeze  we  find 
The  Spirit’s  viewless  way.J 

Two  worlds  are  ours  : ’tis  only  sin 
Forbids  us  to  descry 

The  mystic  heaven  and  earth  within, 
Plait)  as  the  sea  and  sky. 

Thou,  who  hast  given  me  eyes  to  see 
And  love  this  sight  so  fair, 

Give  me  a heart  to  find  out  Thee, 

And  read  Thee  every  where. 


SEXAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 

So  he  drove  out  the  man,  and  plaoed  at  the  east  of  s 
the  garden  of  Eden  cherubims,  and  a flaming  sword  ? 
which  turned  every  way,  to  keep  the  way  of  the  tree 
of  life. — Gen.  iii.  24.  Compare  Ch.  vi.  [First  Les-\ 
sons  in  the  Morning  and  Evening  Service  of  the 
Church  of  England .] 


* Ps.  lxviii.  9.  f Heb.  xii.  29. 

6 


t St.  John  iii.  8. 


tO  Lord  God,  who  seest  that  we  put  not  our  trust  in 
any  thing  that  we  /do,  mercifully  grant' that  hy  thy 
power  we  may  be  defended  against  all  adversity, 
through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Foe  of  mankind  ! too  bold  thy  race  : 

Thou  runn’st  at  such  a reckless  pace, 

Thine  own  dire  work  thou  surely  wilt  confound : 
’Twas  but  one  little  drop  of  sin 
We  saw  this  morning  enter  in; 

And,  lo  ! at  eventide  the  world  is  drown’d.* 

See  here  the  fruit  of  wandering  eyes, 

Of  worldly  longings  to  he  wise, 

Of  passion  dwelling  on  forbidden  sweets: 

Ye  lawless  glances,  freely  rove; 

Ruin  below  and  wrath  above 


Are  all  that  now  the  wildering  fancy  meets. 


Lord,  when  in  some  deep  garden  glade,  $ 
Of  Thee  and  of  myself  afraid. 

From  thoughts  like  these  among  the  bowers  I l 
hide,  ? 

Nearest  and  loudest  then  of  bll  ) > 

I seem  to  hear  the  Judge’s  call : — 

“Where  art  thou,  fallen  man?  come  forth,  and  jj 
be  thou  tried.”  < 

Trembling  before  Thee  as  I stand, 

Where’er  I gaze  on  either  hand 
The  sentence  is  gone  forth,  the  ground  is  cursed  : l 
Yet  mingled  with  the  penal  shower  t 

Some  drops  of  balm  in  every  bower  ) 

Steal  down  like  April  dews,  that  softest  fall  and  / 


< * Tn  the  order  of  lessons  for  Sexagesima  Sunday  in 
) the  Church  of  England,  that  from  the  Old  Testament 
j for  the  morning  relates  the  fall,  and  that  for  the  even- 

< ing,  the  ./food.] 


SEXAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 


83  i 


If  filial  and  maternal  love* * * § 

Memorial  of  our  guilt  must  prove, 

; If  sinful  babes  in  sorrow  must  be  born  ; 

Yet,  to  assuage  her  sharpest  throes, 

The  faithfql  mother  surely  knows, 

> This  was  the  way  Thou  earnest  to  save  the  world  | 
forlorn.! 

If  blessed  wedlock  may  not  bless! 

Without  some  tinge  of  bitterness 

> To  dash  her  cup  of  joy,  since  Eden  lost ; 

Chaining  to  earth  with  strong  desire 
Hearts  that  would  highest  else  aspire 

; And  o’er  the  tenderer  sex  usurping  ever  most ; 

Yet  by  the  light  of  Christian  lore 
’Tis  blind  idolatry  no  more, 

> But  a sweet  help  and  pattern  of  true  love, 

Showing  how  best  the  soul  may  cling 
To  her  immortal  Spouse  and  King, 

I How  He  should  rule,  and  she  with  full  desire  j 
approve. 

If  niggard  earth  her  treasures  hide,§ 

To  all  but  labouring  hands  denied, 
l Lavish  of  thorns  and  worthless  weeds  alone, 

The  doom  is  half  in  mercy  given 
To  train  us  in  our  way  to  heaven, 

; And  show  our  lagging  souls  how  glory  must  be  \ 
won. 


* In  sorrow  shalt  thou  bring  forth  children, 

t [Notwithstanding  she  shall  be  saved  in  child  bear-  | 
[ mg.  1 Tim.  ii.  15.] 

t Thy  desire  shall  be  to  thy  husband,  and  he  shall  ^ 
£ rule  over  thee. 

§ Cursed  is  the  ground  for  thy  sake. 


; 84 


SEXAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 


| If  on  the  sinnef’s  outward  frame* 

> God  hath  impress’d  his  mark  of  blame, 

> And  even  our  bodies  shrink  at  touch  of  light, 

! Yet  mercy  hath  not  left  us  bare: 

The  very  weeds  we  daily  wearf 
: Are  to  faith’s  eye  a pledge  of  God’s  forgiving^ 
might. 

And  oh  ! if  yet:  one  arrow  more,f 
The  sharpest  of  th’  Almighty’s  store, 

> Tremble  upon  the  string— a sinner’s  death — 

Art  Thou  not  by  to  soothe  and  save, 

; To  lay  us  gently  in  the.grave, 

! To  close  the  weary  eye  and  hush  the  parting  £ 

; breath? 

Therefore  in  sight  of  man  bereft 
The  happy  garden  still  was  left ; 

! The  fiery  sword  that  guarded,  show’d  it  too, 
Turning  all  ways,  the  world  to  teach, 

That  though  as  yet  beyond  our  reach, 

; Still  in  its  placb  the  tree  of  life  and  glory  grew. 


* I was  afraid,  because  I was  naked. 

) f The  Lord  God  made  coats  of  skins,  and  he  clothed 
> them. 


QUINQUAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 


85  ] 


QUIN  QU  AGE  SIMA  SUNDAY. 

I do  set  iny  bow  in  the  cloud,  and  it  shall  be  for  a 
| token  of  a covenant  between  me  and  the  earth.  Gen.  , 
l ix.  13..  [ First  Morning  Lesson  for  the  Dag,  Church  > 
[ of  England..]  S 

t [O  Lord,  who  hast  taught  us  that  all  our  doings  \ 
) without  chanty  are  nothing  worth  ; send  thy  Holy  > 

> Ghost,  and  pour  into  our  hearts  that  most  excellent,  gift  l 

> of  charity,  the  very  bond  of  peace  and  of  all  virtues,  ; 
j without  which,  whoever  1 i vet h is  counted  dead  before  ] 
( thee  : grant  this  for  thine  only  Son,  Jesus  Christ’s  sake.  > 
[ Amen.] 

Sweet  dove  ! the  softest,  steadiest  plume 
In  all  the  sunbright  sky, 

Brightening  in  ever*changeful  bloom 
As  breezes  change  on  high; 

Sweet  leaf!  the  pledge  of  peace  and  mirth, 

“ Long  sought,  and  lately  won,” 

Bless’d  increase  of  reviving  earth, 

When  first  it.  felt  the  sun ; 

Sweet  rainbow  ! pride  of  summer  days, 

High  set  at  Heaven’s  command, 

Though  into  drear  and  dusky  haze 
Thou  melt  on  either  hand ; — 

Dear  tokens  of  a pardoning  God, 

We  hail  ye,  one  and  all, 

As  when  our  fathers  walk’d  abroad,* 

Freed  from  their  twelvemonths’  thrall. 


* [“  When  o’er  the  green  undeluged  earth 
Heaven’s  covenant  thou  didst  shine, 
How  came  the  world’s  gray  fathers  forth, 
To  watch  thy  sacred  sign  ! 


i 86 


QUINQUAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 


How  joyful  from  th’  imprisoning  ark 
On  the  green  earth  they  spring! 

Not  blither,  after  showers,  the  lark 
Mounts  up  with  glistening  wing. 

So  home-bound  sailors  spring  to  shore, 
Two  oceans  safely  pass'd ; 

So  happy  souls,  whenlife  isp’er, 

Plunge  in  th’  empyreal  vast. 

What  wins  their  first  and  fondest  gaze 
In  all  the  blissful  field, 

And  keeps  it  through  a thousand  days? 
Love  face  to  face  reveal’d  ; 

Love  imaged  in  that  cordial  look 
Our  Lord  in  Eden  bends 
On  souls  that  sin  and  earth  forsook 
In  time  to  die  His  friends. 

And  what  most  welcome  and  serene 
Dawns  on  the  patriarch’s  eye, 

In  all  th’  emerging  hills  so  green, 

In  all  the  brightening  sky  ? 

What  but  the  gentle  rainbow’s  gleam, 
Soothing  the  wearied  sight, 

That  cannot  bear  the  solar  beam,  * 

With  soft  undazzling  light? 

Lord,  if  our  fathers  turn’d  to  thee 
With  such  adoring  gaze. 

Wondering  frail  man  thy  light  should  see 
Without  thy  scorching  blaze; 

And  when  its  yellow  lustre  smiled 
O’er  mountains  yet  uni  rod, 

Each  mother  held  aloft  her  child, 

To  bless  the  bow  of  God.” 

Campbell  J 


t* 


QUINQUAGESIMA  SUNDAY. 


87  j 


Where  is  our  love,  and  where  our  hearts, 
We  who  have  seen  thy  Son, 

Have  tried  thy  Spirit’s  winning  arts— 
And  yet  we  are  not  won  ? 

The  Son  of  God  in  radiance  beam’d 
Too  bright  for  us  to  scan. 

But  we  may  face  the  rays  that  stream’d 
From  the  mild  Soa  of  man. 

There„parted  into  rainbow  hues, 

In  sweet  harmonious  strife. 

We  see  celestial  love  diffuse 
Its  light  o’er  Jesus’  life!. 

God,  by  His  bow,  vouchsafes  to  write 
This  truth  in  heaven  above; 

As  every  lovely  hue  is  light, 

So  every  grace  is  love.* 


*[The  lines  below  are  not  unworthy  to  be  set  in  < 

> Keble’s  coronet.  > 

DE  PROFUN  D IS. 

“ 7’here  may  be  a cloud  without  a rainbow,  but  there  / 

> cannot  be  a rainbow  without  a cloud.” 

My  soul  were  dark 

Rut  for  the  frozen  light  and  rainbow  hue 
That,  sweeping  heaven  with  their  triumphal  arc. 
Break  on  the  view. 

Enough  to  feel 

That  God  indeed  is  good  ! enough  to  know 
Without  the  gloomy  clouds  he  could  reveal 
No  beauteous  bow. 

Rev.  William  Cr  os  well.] 


4~ 


ASH-WEDNESDAY. 


ASH- WEDNESDAY.* 

When  thou  fastest,  anoint  thine  head,  and  wash  thy  < 
5 face,  that  thou  appear  not  unto  men  to  fast,  hut  unto  > 

< thy  Father  which  is  in  secret.  -St.  Matthew  vi.  17.  £ 
| [.Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who  hatest  nothing  j 
l that  thou  hast  made,  and  dost  forgive  the  sins  of  all  j 
5 those  who  are  penitent ; create  and  make  in  us  new  > 

< and  contrite  hearts,  that  we,  worthily  lamenting  ours 
? sins  and  acknowledging  our  wretchedness,  may  obtain  ? 
) of  thee,  the  God  of  all  mkrcy,  perfect  remission  and  [ 
£ forgiveness,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

“Yes— deep  within  and  deeper  yet 

The  rankling  shaft  of  cdnscience  hide ; 

Quick  let  the  swelling  eye  forget 
The  tears  that  in  the  heart  abide ; 

Calm  be  the  voice,  the  aspect  bold, 

No  shuddering  pass  o’er  lip  or  brow. 

For  why  should  innocence  be  told 
The  pangs  that  guilty  spirits  bow?” 

“ The  loving  eye  that  watches  thine 

Close  as  the  air  that  wraps  thee  round — 


) * [Ash-Wednesday  (so  called  from  the  custom  in  > 

£ the  primitive  church,  of  sprinkling  ashes  on  that  day  l 
? on  the  heads  of  notorious  offenders,  who  were  then  > 
) excommunicated)  is  the  first  day  of  Lent.  The  season  ( 

Iof  Lent  embraces  forty  days,  Sundays  not  being  > 
counted,  which  the  church  invites  her  members  to  > 
observe  with  special  seriousness  and  self-denial,  as  > 
preparatory  to  the  due  commemoration  of  the  mourn-  ) 
ful  event  of  the  crucifixion,  which  is  celebrated  on  J 
Good- Friday.  The  number  of  days  is  fixed  in  especial  > 
> reference  to  the  forty  days’  fasting  of  our  Lord,  just  '> 
\ before  his  temptation. 


ASH-WEDNESDAY.  89  ] 

Why  in  thy  sorrow  should  it  pine, 

Since  never  of  thy  sin  it  found? 

And  wherefore  should  the  heathen  see* 

What  chains  of  darkness  thee  enslave, 

And  mocking  say,  Lo„  this  is  he 
Who  own’d  a God  that  could  not  save  ?” 

Thus  oft  the  mourner’s  wayward  heart 
Tempts  him  to  hide  his  grief  and  die, 

Too  feeble  for  confession’s  smart, 

Too  proud  1,0  hear  a pitying  eye  ; 

How  sweet,  in  that  dark  hour,  to  fall 
On  bosoms  waiting  to  receive 
Our  sighs,  and  gently  whisper  all ! 

They  love  us— will  not  God  forgive  ? 

Else  let  us  keep  our  fast  within, 

Till  Heaven  and  we  are  quite  alone, 

Then  let  the  grief,  the  shame,  the  sin, 

Before  the  mercy-seat  be  thrown. 

Bet  ween  the  porch  and  altar  weep 
Unworthy  of  the  holiest  place, 

Yet  hoping  near  the  shrine  to  keep 
One  lowly  cell  in  sight  of  grace. 

Nor  fear  lest  sympathy  should  fail— 

Hast  thou  not  seen,  in  night-hours  drear, 
When  racking  thoughts  the  heart  assail, 

Then  glimmering  stars  by  turns  appear, 

And  from  th’  eternal  home  above 
With  silent  news  of  mercy  steal  ? 

So  angels  pause  on  tasks  of  love. 

To  look  where  sorrowing  sinners  kneel. 

Or,  if  no  angel  pass  that  way, 

He  who  in  secret  sees,  perchance 


) * Wherefore  should  they  say  among  the  people, 

< Where  is  their  God  ? Joel  ii.  17. 


FIRST  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


May  bid  his  own  heart-warming  ray 
Toward  thee  stream  with  kindlier  glance, 
As  when  upon  His  drooping  head 

His  Father’s  light  was  pour’d  from  heaven, 
What  time,  unshelter’d  and  unfed,* 

Far  in  the  wild  His- steps  were  driven. 

High  thoughts  were  with  Him  in  that  hour, 
Untold,  unspeakable  on  earth— 

And  who  can  stay  the  soaring  power 
Of  spirits  wean’d  from  worldly  mirth, 
While  far  beyond  the  sound  of  praise 
With  upward  eye  they  float  serene, 

And  learn  to  bear  their  Saviour’s  blaze 
When  judgment  shall  undraw  the  screen  ? 


FIRST  SUNDAY. IN  LENT. 

THE  CITY  OF  REFUGE. 

Haste  thee,  escape  thither,  for  I cannot  do  any  thing  < 
; till  thou  be  come  thither ; therefore  the  name  of  the  i 

< city  was  called  Zoar. — Genesis  xix.  ‘2*2.  [First  Morn- 

4 ing  Lesson  for  the  Day,  Church  of  England,.] 

[O  Lord,  who  for  our  sake  didst  fast  forty  days  and  ' 

< forty  nights,  give  us  grace  to  use  such  abstinence,  that  < 
? our  flesh  being  subdued  to  the  Spirit,  we  may  ever  | 

< obey  thy  godly  motions  in  righteousness  and  true  s 
? holiness,  to  thy  honour  and  glory,  who  li vest  and  < 

5 reignest  with  the  Father  and  the  Holy  Gho9t,  one  God,  J 
( world  without  end.  Amen.] 

I “ Angel  of  wrath  ! why  linger  in  mid  air, 

While  the  devoted  city’s  cry 


Louder  and  louder  swells  ? and  canst  thou  spare, 
Thy  full-charged  vial  standing  by  ?” 

Thus,  with  stern  voice,  unsparing  justice  pleads  : 


His  eye  is  following  where  sweet  Mercy  leads, 


And  till  she  give  the  sign,  his  fury  stays. 


Guided  by  her,  along  the  mountain  road, 


Far  through  the  twilight  of  the  morn, 

With  hurrying  footsteps  from  th’  accursed  abode 
He  sees  the  holy  household  borne  : 

Angels,  or  more,  on  either  hand  are  nigh,* 

To  speed  them  o’er  the  tempting  plain, 
Lingering  in  heart,  and  with  frail  sidelong  eye 
Seeking  how  near  they  may  unharin’d  remain. 

“ Ah ! wherefore  gleam  those  upland  slopes  so  fair  ? 

And  why,  through  every  woodland  arch, 
Swells  yon  bright  vale,  as  Eden  rich  and  rare, 
Where  Jordan  winds  his  stately  inarch  ; 

If  all  must  be  forsaken,  ruin’d  all , — 

If  God  have  planted  but  to  burn  ? — 

Surely  not  yet  th’  avenging  shower  will  fall, 
Though  to  my  home  for  one  last  look  I turn.” 
Thus  while  they  waver,  surely  long  ago 
They  had  provoked  the  withering  blast, 

But  that  the  merciful  avengers  know 

Their  frailty  well,  and  hold  them  fast. 

“ Haste,  for  thy  life  escape,  nor  look  behind”— 
Ever  in  thrilling  sounds  like  these 
'They  check  the  wandering  eye,  severely  kind, 
Nor  let  the  sinner  lose  his  soul  at  ease. 


* [The  family  of  Lot,  led  out  of  Sodom.  The  ex-  | 
pression,  “angels,  or  more ” (angels,  or  greater  than  / 
they),  has  reference,  probably,  to  the  “angel  of  the  < 
covenant,”  spoken  of  in  the  Old  Testament,  and  gen-  \ 
erally  understood  as  a manifestation  of  the  Son  of  God.  > 


(92 


FIRST  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


S And  when,  o’erwearied  with  the  steep  ascent, 

\ We  for  a nearer  refuge  crave, 

One  little  spot  of  ground  in  mercy  lent, 

( One  hour  of  home  before  the  grave, 

Oft  in  his  pity  o’er  his  children  weak, 

His  hand  withdraws  the  penal  fire, 

And  where  we  fondly  cling,  forbears  to  wreak 
Full  vengeance,  till  our  hearts  are  wean’d  entire.  \ 

> Thus,  by  the  merits  of  one  righteous  man, 

S The  Church,  our  Zoar,  shall  abide  ; 

\ Till  she  abuse,  so  sore,  her. lengthen’d  span, 

\ Even  Mercy’s  self  her  face  must  hide. 

< Then,  onward  yet  a step,  thou  hard-won  soul ; 

< Though  in  the  Church  thou  know  thy  place, 
i The  mountain  farther  lies— there  seek  thy  goal, 

^ There  breathe  at  large,  o’erpast  thy  dangerous  \ 

race. 

I Sweet  is  the  smile  of  home,  the  mutual  look 
When  Hearts  are  of  each  other  sure  ; 
i Sweet  all  the  joys  that  crowd  the  household  nook,  \ 
l The  haunt  of  all  affections  pure  ; 

\ Yet  in  the  world  even  these  abide,  and  we 
Above  the  world  our  calling  boast: 

^ Once  gain  the  mountain  top,  and  thou  art  free: 
j Till  then,  who  rest,  presume  ; who  turn  to  look,  \ 
are  lost.* 


* Escape  for  thy  life : look  not  behind  thee,  neither  j 
? stay  thou  in  all  the  plain : escape  to  the  mountain,  ( 

S lest  thou  be  consumed But  his  wile  looked  < 

£ back  from  behind  him,  and  she  became  a pillar  of  salt.  < 
> Genesis  xix.  17, 2ti. 


SECOND  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

ESAU’S  FORFEIT. 

And  when  Esau  heard  the  words  of  his  father,  he  $ 
[ cried  with  a great  and  exceeding  bitter  cry,  and  said  5 

> unto  his  father,  Bless  me,  even  me  also,  O my  father.  < 
5 Oen.  xxvii.  34.  (Compare  Hebrews  xii.  17.  He  found  j 

> no  place  for  repentance,  though  he  sought  it  carefully  < 

> with  tears.) * — First  Morning  Lesson  for  the  Day,  ! 
' Church  of  England,.] 

[Almighty  God,  who  seest  that  we  have  no  power  of  j 
l ourselves  to  help  ourselvps ; keep  us  both  outwardly  ) 

> in  our  bodies,  and  inwardly  in  our  souls  : that  we  may  ( 

> be  defended  from  all  adversities  which  may  happen  [ 
l to  the  body,  and  from  all  evil  thoughts  which  may  < 

> assault  and  hurt  the  soul,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  j 
( Lord.  Amen.] 

> “And  is  there  in  Gop’s  world  so  drear  a place 

Where  the  loud  hitter  cry  is  raised  in  vain  ? 

I Where  tears  of  penance  come  too  late  for  grace, 
As  op  th’*uprooted  flower  the  genial  rain  7 

’Tis  even  so : the  sovereign  Lord  of  souls 
Stores  in  the  dungeon  of  his  boundless  realm 
I Each  bolt,  that  o’er  the  sinner  vainly  rolls, 

With  gather’d  wrath  the  reprobate  to  whelm. 


* The  author  earnestly  hopes  that  nothing  in  these  < 
£ stanzas  will  be  understood  to  express  any  opinion  as  < 

> to  the  general  efficacy  of  what  is  called  “ a death-bed  < 

> repentance.”  Such  questions  are  best  left  in  the  < 

> merciful  obscurity  with  which  Hcripture  has  enveloped  * 

> them.  Esau's  probation,  as  far  as  his  birthright  was  j 
j concerned,  was  quite  over  when  he  uttered  the  cry  in  5 

> the  text.  His  despondency,  therefore,  is  not  parallel  j 

^to  any  thing  on  this  side  the  grave.  ? 


94 


SECOND  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


J Will  the  storm  hear  the  sailor’s  piteous  cry,* 
Taught  to  mistrust,  too  late,  the  tempting 
wave, 

\ When  all  around  he  sees  but  sea  and  sky, 

A God  in  anger,  a self-chosen  grave  ? 

) Or  will  the  thorns,  that  strew  intemperance’  ) 
bed,f 

Turn  with  a wish  to  down  ? will  late  remorse  \ 
^ Recall  the  shaft  the  murderer’s  hand  has  sped. 

Or  from  the  guiltless  bosom  turns  fts  course  ? 

\ Then  may  th’  unbodied  soul  in  safety  fleet 

Through  the  dark  curtains  of  the  world  above, 

[ Fresh  from  the  stain  of  crime  ; nor  fear  to  meet 
The  God,  whom  here  she  would  not  learn  to  j 
love: 

\ Then  is  there  hope  for  such  as  die  unblest, 

That  angel  wings  may  waft  them  to  the  shore, 

| Nor  need  th’  unready  virgin  strike  her  breast. 

Nor  wait  desponding  round  the  bridegroom’s 
door. 

\ But  where  is  then  the  stay  of  contrite  hearts  ? 

Of  old  they  lean’d  on  thy  eternal  word, 
j But  with  the  sinner’s  fear  their  hope  departs, 

Fast  link’d  as  thy  great  name  to  Thee,  O Lord: 


* Compare  Bishop  Butler’s  Analogy,  p.  54 — 64,  ed. 

1 1756.  < 

t [“  Consider,  then,  people  ruin  their  fortunes  by  \ 
? extravagance  ; they  bring  diseases  upon  themselves  by  5 
$ excess ; they  incur  the  penalties  of  civil  laws : will  \ 
< sorrow  for  these  follies  past,  and  behaving  well  for  the  l 
> future,  alone  and  of  itself,  prevent  the  natural  conse- 
s quences  of  them  1” — Butler's  Analogy,  part  ii.  c.  v. 

\ sec.  4.] 


•p 


SECOND  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


95  \ 


< That  name,  by  which  thy  faithful  Oath  is  pass’d 
! That  we  should  endless  ,be,  for  joy  or  wo  : — 

And  if  the  treasures  of  thy  wrath  could  waste, 
Thy  lovers  must  their  promised  heaven  forego. 

> But  ask  of  elder  days,  earth’s  vernal  hour, 

vV'hen  in  familiar  talk  God’s  voice  was  heard, 

\ Wh$n  ut  the  patriarch’s  call  the  fiery  shower 
Propitious  o’er  the  turf-built  shrine  appear’d. 

> W atch  by  our  father  Isaac’s  pastoral  door— 

1 The  birthright  sold,  the  blessing  lost  and  won, 

\ Tell,  Heaven  has  wrath  that  can  relent  no  more, 

The  grave  dark  deeds  that  cannot  be  undone. 

| We  barter  life  for  pottage  ; sell  true  bliss 

For  wealth  or  power,  for  pleasure  or  renown  ; 

\ Thus,  Esau-like,  our  Father’s  blessing  miss, 

Then  wash  with  fruitless  tears  our  faded  crown.  ] 

\ Our  faded  crown,  despised  and  flung  aside, 

Shall  on  some  brother’s  brow  immortal  bloom: 

$ No  partial  hand  the  blessing  may  misguide  ; 

No  flattering  fancy  change  our  Monarch’s  doom; 

| His  righteous  doom,  that  meek  true-hearted  love 
i The  everlasting  birthright  should  receive, 

< The  softest  dews  drop  on  her  from  above,* 

The  richest  green  her  mountain  garland  weave  ; ^ 

<!  Her  brethren,  mightiest,  wisest,  eldest  born, 

( Bow  to  her  sway,  and  move  at  her  behest  : 
Isaac’s  fond  blessing  may  not  fall  on  scorn, 

Nor  Balaam’s  curse  on  love,  which  God  hath  { 


l 


blest. 


* Genesis  xxvii.  27,  28./ 


j!  96 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


THE  SPOILS  OF  SATAN. 

When  a strong  man  armed  keepeth  his  palace,  hf-  ) 
s goods  are  in  peace.  But  when  a stronger  than  he  shall  < 
i come  upon  him,  and  overcome  him,  he  taketh  from  him  ? 
Sail  his  armour  wherein  he  trusted,  and  divideth  his  5 
] spoil.  St.  Luke  xi.  ‘21,  22.  [.Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[We  beseech  thee,  Almighty  God,  look  upon  the  j 
S hearty  desires  of  thy  humble  servants,  and  stretch  forth  S 
< the  right  hand  of  thy  Majesty,  to  be  our  defence  against  \ 
^ all  our  enemies,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.  1 \ 

See  Lucifer  like  lightning  fall, 

Dash’d  from  his  throne  of  pride ; 

While,  answering  Thy  victorious  call, 

The  saints  his  spoils  divide, 

This  world  of  thine,  by  him  usurp’d  too  long, 

| Now  opening  all  her  stores  to  heal  thy  servants’ 
wrong. 

( So  when  the  first-born  of  thy  foes 
) Dead  in  the  darkness  lay, 

? When  thy  redeem’d  at  midnight  rose 
/ And  cast  their  bonds  away, 

, The  orphan’d  realm  threw  wide  her  gates,  and  j 
[ told 

$ Into  freed  Israel’s  lap  her  jewels  and  her  gold. 

And  when  their  wondrous  march  was  o’er, 

And  they  had  won  their  homes, 

Where  Abraham  fed  his  flock  of  yore. 

Among  their  fgther’  tombs 
A land  that  drinks  the  rain  of  heaven  at  will, 

; Whose  waters  kiss  the  feet  of  many  a vine-clad  i 
hill 


•f 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


97  \ 


Oft  as  they  watch’d,  at  thoughtful  eve, 

A gale  from  bowers  of  balm 
Sweep  o’er  the  billowy  corn,  and  heave 
The  tresses  of  the  palm,  s 

just  as  the  lingering  sun  had  touch’d  with  gold,  ( 
l ar  o’er  the  cedar  shade,  some  tower  of  giants  old ; £ 

It  was  a fearful  joy,  I ween,  ■> 

To  trace  the  heathen’s  toil,  £ 

The  limpid  wells,  the  orchards  green  £ 

Left  ready  for  the  spoil ; 

The  household  stores  untouch’d,  the  roses  bright  $ 
> Wreathed  o’er  the  cottage  walls  in  garlands  of  ’ 
delight.* * * § 

And  now  another  Canaan  yields 
To  thine  all-conquering  ark  ; — 

Fly  from  the  “ old  poetic”  fields,! 

Ye  Paynim  shadows  dark  ! 

Immortal  Greece,  dear  land  of  glorious  lays, 

\ Lo ! here  the  “ unknown  God”  of  thy  unconscious  £ 

• praiselj. 

The  olive  wreath,  the  ivied  wand, 

“ The  sword  in  myrtles  dress’d, ”§ 


* [A  most  lovely  picture  of  the  natural  and  domestic 
$ beauties  of  the  land  upon  which,  as  in  Eden,  sin  had 
( brought  down  the  curse.  It  is  here  most  skilfully  in- 
> troduced  to  heighten  the  contrast.] 

f Where  each  old  poetic  mountain 

Inspiration  breathed  around.  Gray. 
t [As  I passed  by,  and  beheld  your  devotions,  I (bund 
I an  altar  with  this  inscription,  TO  THE  UNKNOWN 
4 GOD.  Jicts  xvii.  23.] 

§ The  famous  Athenian  drinking  song,  by  Callis- 
t rat  us : — 


f 98 


THIRD  SUNDAY  IN.  LENT. 


Each  legend  of  the  shadowy  strand 
Now  wakes  a vision  bless’d  ; 

As  little  children  lisp,  and  tell  of  heaven, 

So  thoughts  beyond  their  thought  to  those  high  \ 
bards  were  given. 

And  these  are  ours ; Thy  partial  grace 
The  tempting  treasure  lends  ; 

These  relics  of  a guilty  race 
Are  forfeit  to  thy  friends  ; 

What  seem’d  an  idol  hymn,  now  breathes  of$ 
Thee, 

Tuned  by  faith’s  ear  to  some  celestial  melody. 

There’s  not  a strain  to  memory  dear* 

Nor  flower  in  classic  grove, 

There’s  not  a sweet  note  warbled  here, 

But  minds  us  of  thy  love. 

O Lord,  our  Lord,  and  spoiler  of  our  foes, 

'i  There  is  no  light  but  thine  ; with  Thee  all  beauty  } 
glows. 


j!  I’ll  wreathe  my  sword  with  myrtle  as  the  brave  Har- 
? modius  did, 

5 And  as  Aristogeiion  his  avenging  weapon  hid, 
c When  they  slew  the  haughty  tyrant,  and  regain’d  our 
) liberty, 

i And  breaking  down  oppression,  made  the  men  of 

' Athens  free.  G.  W.  D. 

y See  Burns’  Works,  i.  2911,  Dr.  Currie’s  edition. 
[There’s  not  a bonnie  flower  that  springs 
By  fountain,  shaw  or  green. 

There’s  not  a bonnie  bird  that  sings, 

But  minds  me  o’  my  Jean.] 


THE  ROSE-BUD. 

Joseph  made  haste,  for  his  bowels  did  yearn  upon  \ 
i his  brother ; and  he  sought,  where  to  weep  ; and  he 
J entered  into  his  chamber,  and  wept  there.  Gen.  xliii.  5 
>30.  I First  Lesson,  Morning  Service,  Church  of  l 
} England .] 

There  stood  no  man  with  them,  while  Joseph  made  $ 
5 himself  known  unto  his  brethren.  Gen.  xlv.  1.  [First  $ 
| Lesson,  Evening  Service,  Church  of  England .] 

[Grant,  we  beseech  thee.  Almighty  God.  that  we,  < 
( who  for  our  evil  deeds  do  worthily  deserve  to  be  > 
? punished,  by  the  comfort  of  thy  grace  may  mercifully  s 
5 be  relieved,  through  our  Lord  and  Saviour,  Jesus  \ 
£ Christ.  Amen.} 

When  Nature  tries  her  finest  touch,  , 
Weaving  her  vernal  wreath, 

Mark  ye,  how  close  she  veils  her  round, 

Not  to  be  traced  by  sight  or  sound, 

Nor  soiled  by  ruder  breath  ? 


Who  ever  saw  the  earliest  rose 
First  open  her  sweet  breast  ? 

Or,  when  the  summer  sun  goes  down, 
The  first  soft  star  in  evening’s  crown 
Light  up  her  gleaming  crest  ? 

Fondly  we  seek  frhe  dawning  bloom 
On  features  wan  and  fair, — 

The  gazing  eye  no  change  can  trace, 
But  look  away  a little  space, 

Then  turn,  and,  lo  ! ’tis  there. 


j 100  FOURTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 

But  there’s  a sweeter  flower  than  e’er 
Blush’d  on  the  rosy  spray — 

A brighter  star,  a richer  bloom 
Than  e’er  did  western  heaven  illume 
At  close  of  summer  day. 

’Tis  love,  the  last  best  gift  of  Heaven ; 

Love  gentle,  holy,  pure  ; 

But,  tenderer  than  a dove’s  soft  eye, 

The  searching  sun,  the  open  sky 
She  never  could  endure. 

Even  human  love  will  shrink  from  sight 
Here  in  the  coarse  rude  earth  ; 

How  then  should  rash  intruding  glance 
Break  in  upon  her  sacred  trance 
Who  boasts  a heavenly  birth? 

So  still  and  secret  is  her  growth, 

Ever  the  truest  heart, 

Where  deepest  strikes  her  kindly  root 
For  hope  or  joy,  for  flower  or  fruit, 
Least  knows  its  happy  part. 

God  only,  and  good  angels,  look 
Behind  the  blissful  screen — 

As  when,  triumphant  o’er  his  woes. 

The  Son  of  God  by  moonlight  rose,* 

By  all  but  Heaven  unseen  ; 

As  when  the  holy  maid  beheld 
Her  risen  Son  and  Lord; 

Thought  has  not  colours  half  so  fair 
That  she  to  paint  that  hour  may  dare, 
In  silence  best  adored. 


:T 


, : [It  was  at  the  time  of  the  Paschal  full  moon  that  { 

> the  Saviour  rose  from  the  dead.] 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT.  101 

The  gracious  dove,  that  brought  from  heaven 
The  earnest  of  our  bliss, 

Of  many  a chosen  witness  telling, 

On  many  a happy  vision  dwelling, 

Sings  not  a note  of  this. 

So,  truest  image  of  the  Christ, 

Old  Israel’s  long-lost  son, 

What  time,  with  sweet  forgiving  cheer, 

He  called  his  conscious  brethren  near, 

Would  weep  with  them  alone.* 

He  could  not  trust  his  melting  soul 
But  in  his  Maker’s  sight — 

Then  why  should  gentle  hearts  and  true 
Bare  to  the  rude  world’s  withering  view 
Their  treasure  of  delight  ! 

No— let  the  dainty  rose  awhile 
Her  bashful  fragrance  hide — 

Rend  not  her  silken  veil  too  soon, 

But  leave  her,  in  her  own  soft  noon, 

To  flourish  and  abide. 


„ ; [Genesis  xlv.  1.  Then  Joseph  could  not  refrain  l 

> himself  before  all  them  that  stood  by  him,  and  he  5 
< cried.  Cause  every  man  to  go  out  from  me  : and  there  i 
] stood  no  man  with  him,  while  Joseph  made  himself  ^ 
5 known  unto  his  brethren.] 


I- 


4 


$ 102 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


THE  BURNING  BUSH. 


And  Moses  said,  I will  now  turn  aside  and  see  this  \ 

< great  sight,  why  the  bush  is  not  burned.  Exodus  iii.  3.  > 
j [First  Lesson , Morning  Service,  Church  of  England .1 1 

[We  beseech  thee,  Almighty  God,  mercifully  to  look  < 

< upon  thy  people  ; that  by  thy  great  goodness  they  may  t 
? be  governed  and  preserved  eVermore,  both  in  body  and  [ 
\ soul,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Th’  historic  muse,  from  age  to  age, 

Through  many  a waste  heart-sickening  page 
Hath  traced  the  works  of  man; 

But  a celestial  call  to-day 
Stays  her,  like  Moses,  on  her  way, 

The  works  of  God  to  scan. 

Far  seen  across  the  sandy  wild, 

Where,  like  a solitary  child, 

He  thoughtless  roam’d  and  free, 

One  towering  thorn*  was  wrapp’d  in  flame — 
Bright  without  blaze  it  went  and  came: 

Who  would  not  turn  and  see? 

Along  the  mountain  ledges  green 
The  scatter’d  sheep  at  will  may  glean 
The  desert’s  spicy  stores : 

The  while,  with  undivided  heart, 

The  shepherd  talks  with  God  apart, 

And  as  he  talks,  adores. 


* “ Seneh  said  to  be  a sort  of  acacia. 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


103  $ 


Ye  too,  who  tend  Christ’s  wildering  flock, 
Well  may  ye  gather  round  the  rock 
That  once  was  Sion’s  hill : 

To  watch  the  fire  upon  the  mount 
Still  blazing,  like  the  solar  fount, 

Yet  unconsuming  still. 

Caught  from  that  blaze  by  wrath  divine, 
Lost  branches  of  the  once-loved  vine, 
Now  wither’d,  spent,  and  sere, 

See  Israel’s  sons,  like  glowing  brands, 
Toss’d  wildly  o’er  a thousand  lands 
For  twice  a thousand  year. 

God  will  not  quench  nor  slay  them  quite, 
But  lifts  them  like  a beacon  light 
I’ll’  apostate  church  to  scare  : 

Or  like  pale  ghosts  that  darkling  roam. 
Hovering  around  their  ancient  home, 

But  find  no  refuge  there. 

Ye  blessed  angels ! if  of  you 
There  be,  who  love  the  ways  to  view 
Of  kings  and  kingdoms  here  ; 

(And  sure,  ’tis  worth  an  angel's  gaze, 

To  see,  throughout  that  dreary  maze, 

God  teaching  love  and  fear  ;) 

O say,  in  all  the  bleak  expanse, 

Is  there  a spot  to  win  your  glance, 

So  bright,  so  dark  as  this? 

A hopelqss  faith,  a homeless  race,* 

Yet  seeking  the  most  holy  place, 

And  owning  the  true  bliss! 


^[The  Jews,  alluded  to  in  these  lines,  “a  nation  j 
( scattered  and  peeled,”  without  a home  in  the  whole  > 
; world,  of  which,  as  the  peculiar  people  of  God,  they  j 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  IN  LENT. 


104 


s Salted  with  fire  they  seem*  to  show 
l How  spirits  lost  in  endless  wo 
< May  undecaying  live. 

\ Oh  sickening  thought!  yet  hold  it  fast 

I Long  as  this  glittering  world  shall  last, 
Or  sin  at  heart  survive. 

And  hark  ! amid  the  flashing  fire, 
Mingling  with  tones  of  fear  and  ire, 


Gentiles!  with  fix’d  yet  awful  eye 
Turn  ye  this  page  of  mystery, 

Nor  slight  the  warning  sound  : 

“ Put  off  thy  shoes  from  off  thy  feet — 
The  place  where  man  his  God  shall  meet, 
Be  sure  is  holy  ground.” 


PALM  SUNDAY.* 

THE  CHILDREN  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 

And  he  answered  and  said  unto  them,  I tell  you, 
> that  if  these  should  hold  their  peace,  the  stones  would 
j immediately  cry  out. — St.  Luke  xix.  40. 

[Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who,  of  thy  tender 
5 love  towards  mankind,  hast  sent  thy  Son  our  Saviour 
< Jesus  Christ,  to  take  upon  him  our  flesh,  and  to  suffer 
) death  upon  the  cross,  that  all  mankind  should  follow 
s the  example  of  his  great  humility;  mercifully  grant 
? that,  we  may  both  follow  the  example  of  his  patience, 
S and  also  be  made  partakers  of  his  resurrection,  through 
] the  same  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Ye  whose  hearts  are  beating  high 
With  the  pulse  of  poesy, 

Heirs  of  more  than  royal  race, 

Framed  by  Heaven’s  peculiar  grace, 

God’s  own  work  to  do  on  earth 
(If  the  word  be  not  too  bold,) 

Giving  virtue  a new  birth, 

And  a life  that  ne*er  grows  old— 


* [The  Sunday  next  before  Easter,  so  called  in  refer-  ( 
? ence  to  the  palm  branches  thrown  before  our- Saviour  \ 
S on  his  way  to  Jerusalem,  five  days  before  his  cruci- 
< fixion.] 


I 106  PALM  SUNDAY. 

Sovereign  masters  of  all  hearts  ! 

Know. ye,  who  hath  set  your  parts? 

He  who  gave  you  breath  to  sing, 

By  whose  strength  ye  sweep  the  string, 
He  h^th  chosen  you,  to  lead 
His  hosannas  here  below; — 

Mount,  and  claim  your  glorious  meed  ; 
Linger  not  with  sin  and  wo. 

But  if  ye  should  hold  your  peace, 

Deem  not  that  the  song  would  cease — 
Angels  round  His  glory-throne, 

Stars,  his  guiding  hand  that  own, 
Flowers,  that  grow  beneath  our  feet, 
Stones  in  earth’s  dark  womb  that  rest, 
High  and  low  in  choir  shall  meet, 

Ere  His  name  shall  be  unblest. 

Lord,  by  every  minstrel  tongue 
Be  thy  praise  so  duly  sung, 

That  thine  angels’  harps  may  ne’er 
Fail  to  find  fit  echoing  here  : 

We  the  while,  of  meaner  birth, 

Who  in  that  divinest  spell 
Dare  not  hope  to  join  on  earth, 

Give  us  grace  to  listen  well. 

But  should  thankless  silence  seal 
Lips,  that  might  half  heaven  reveal, 
Should  bards  in  idol-hymns  profane 
The  sacred  soul-enthralling  strain, 

(As  in  this  bad  world  below 

Noblest  things  find  vilest  using,) 

Then,  thy  power  and  mercy  show, 

In  vile  things  noble  breath  infusing ; 

Then  .waken  into  sound  divine 
The  very  pavement  of  thy  shrine, 


:! 


Till  we,  like  heaven’s  star-sprinkled  floor, 
Faintly  give  back  what  we  adore. 
Child-like  though  the  voices  be. 

And  untunable  the  parts, 

Thou  wilt  own  the  minstrelsy, 

If  it  flow  from  child-like  hearts. 


MONDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 

CHRIST  WAITING  FOR  THE  CROSS. 

, Doubtless  Thou  art  our  Father,  though  Abraham  be 
> ignorant  of  us,  and  Israel  acknowledge  us  nut.  Isaiah 
J Ixiii.  16.  [ Portion  of  Scripture  appointed  for  the 

; Epistle  in  the  Service  for  the  Day.] 

‘ Father  to  me  thou  art,  and  mother  dear, 

And  brother  too,  kind  husband  of  my  heart  !”* 

\ So  speaks  Andromache  in  boding  fear, 

! Ere  from  her  last  embrace  hlr  hero  part : 

; So  evermore,  by  faith’s  undying  glow, 
j We  own  the  Crucified  in  weal  or  wo. 

; Strange  to  our  ears  the  church-bells  of  our  home, 
j The  fragrance  of  our  old  paternal  fields 
! May  be  forgotten  ; and  the  time  may  come 

When  the  babe’s  kiss  no  sense  of  pleasure  yields 
! Even  to  the  doting  mother:  but  thine  own 
! Thou  never  canst  forget  or  leave  alone. 


* [Yet  while  my  Hector  still  survives,  I see 
My  father,  mother,  brethren,  all  in  thee  : 
Alas!  my  parents,  brothers,  kindred,  all 
Once  more  will  perish,  if  my  Hector  fall. 

Iliad,  vi.  429.  Pope's  Version,  vi.  544.] 


•f*' 


1 108 


MONDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


> There  are  who  sigh  that  no  fond  heart  is  theirs, 

5 None  loves  them  best — O vain  and  selfish  sigh! 
s Out  of  the  bosom  of  His  love  He  spares — 

\ The  Father  spares  the  Son,  for  thee  to  die  : 

] For  thee  He  died — for  thee  He  lives  again  : 

( O’er  thee  He  watches  in  His  boundless  reign. 

\ Thou  art  as  much  His  care,  as  if  beside 

Nor  man  nor  angel  lived  in  heaver?  or  earth: 

^ Thus  sunbeams  pour  alike  their  glorious  tide 
To  light  up  worlds,  or  wake  an  insect’s  mirth: 

] They  shine  and  shine  with  unexhausted  store  ; 
i Thou  art  thy  Saviour’s  darling— seek  no  more. 

\ On  thee  and  thine,  thy  warfare  and  thine  end, 
Even  in  His  hour  of  agony  He  thought, 

[ When,  ere  the  final  pang  His  soul  should  rend, 

The  ransom’d  spirits  one  by  one  were  brought 
| To  his  mind’s  eye— two  silent  nights  and  days* 

In  calmness  for  His  far  seen  hour  He  stays. 

Ye  vaulted  cells,  wfhere  martyr’d  seers  of  old 
! Far  in  the  rocky  walls  of  Sion  sleep; 

] Green  terraces  and  arched  fountains  cold, 

Where  lies  the  cypress  shade  so  still  and  deep; 

! Dear  sacred  haunts  of  glory  and  of  wo, 

\ Help  us,  one  hour,  to  trace  His  musings  high  and  j 
low : 

| One  heart-ennobling  hour ! It  may  not  be- 

Th’  unearthly  thoughts  have  pass’d  from  earth  ^ 
away, 

l And  fast  as  evening  sunbeams  from  the  sea 
Thy  footsteps  all  in  Sion’s  deep  decay 

* In  Passion  week,  from  Tuesday  evening  to  Thurs-  5 
< day  evening : during  which  time  Scripture  seems  to  be  < 
? nearly  silent  concerning  our  Saviour’s  proceedings.  ( 


MONDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


109  < 

| Were  blotted  from  the  holy  ground  ; yet  dear 

> Is  every  stone  of  hers ; for  Thou  wast  surely  here.*  $ 

} There  is  a spot  within  this  sacred  dale 

That  felt  Thee  kneeling — touch’d  Thy  prostrate  ^ 
brow ; 

$ One  angel  knows  it.  O might  prayer  avail 
To  win  that  knowledge  ! sure  each  holy  vow 
Less  quickly  from  th’  unstable  soul  would  fade, 
Offer’d  where  Christ  in  agony  was  laid. 

; Might  tear  of  ours  once  mingle  with  the  blood 
That  from  His  aching  brow  by  moonlight  fell, 

\ Over  the  mournful  joy  our  thoughts  would  brood, 
Till  they  had  framed  within  a guardian  spell 
| To  chase  repining  fancies,  as  they  rise, 

> Like  birds  of  evil  wing,  to  mar  our  sacrifice. 


* [’Tis  sweet  to  Him  who  treasures  love  divine, 

The  coasts  with  zeal  of  palmer  old  to  trace, 

Hills,  vales,  and  streams  of  holy  Palestine, 

And  mark  in  every  ancient  hallow’d  place 
What  rays  of  glory  wont  of  old  to  shine. 

What  acts  of  wonder,  and  what  words  of  grace  : 
How  here  the  mourner  heard  glad  news  of  rest, 

Here  the  deaf  ear  the  Saviour’s  presence  bless’a, 

^ The  sightless  eye  beheld,  the  speechless  tongue  con- 
fess’d. 

And  sweet  to  them  whose  bounded  lot  at  home 
Constrains  their  steps  in  quietude  to  stray, 

Yea,  sweet  it  is  to  them,  afar  to  roam 
In  thought,  companions  of  the  palmer’s  way, 

And  to  the  mother  land  of  Christendom 
The  debt  of  more  than  patriot  fondness  pay, — 

If  Judah’s  palmy  hills  their  sojourn  be. 

Or  Jordan’s  flood,  or  lone  Tiberias’  sea, 

\ Or  thy  once  glorious  towns,  thrice  favour’d  Galilee  ! 

Bishop  Mant,  Gospel  Miracles , y>.  120.] 


f 110 


TUESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


> So  dreams  the  heart  self-flattering,  fondly  dreams  ; 

; Else  wherefore,  when  the  bitter  waves  o’erflow,  \ 
! Miss  we  the  light,  Gethsemane,  that  streams 
From  thy  dear  name,  where  in  His,  page  of  wo 
! It  shines,  a pale  kind  star  in  winter’s  sky? 

; Who  vainly  reads  it  there,  in  vain  had  seen  Him  \ 
die. 


TUESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


CHRIST  REFUSING  THE  WINE  AND  MYRRH. 

They  gave  him  to  drink  wine  mingled  with  myrrh  ; \ 
\ but  he  received  it  not.  St.  Mark  xv.23.  Gospel  for  £ 
I the  Day .1 

“Fill  high  the  bowl,  and  spice  it  well,  and  pour 
The  dews  oblivious  ; for  the  cross  is  sharp, 

The  cross  is  sharp,  and  He 
Is  tenderer  than  a lamb. 

He  wept  by  Lazarus’  grave— how  will  He  bear 
This  bed  of  anguish  ? and  His  pale  weak  form 
Is  worn  with  many  a watch 
Of  sorrow  and  unrest. 

His  sweat  last  night  was  as  great  drops  of  blood, 
And  the  sad  burden  press’d  him  so  to  earth, 

The  very  torturers  paused 
To  help  Him  on  His  way. 

Fill  high  the  bowl,  benumb  His  aching  sense 
With  medicined  sleep.”— Oh  awful  in  thy  wo  ! 

The  parching  thirst  of  death 
Is  on  Thee,  and  thou  triest 


TUESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


Ill 


> The  slumberous  potion  bland,  and  wilt  not  drink  : [ 

> Not  sullen,  nor  in  scorn,  like  haughty  man 
With  suicidal  hand 
Putting  his  solace  by: 

l But  as  at  first  thine  all-pervading  look 
[ Saw  from  thy  Father’s  bosom  to  th’  abyss. 
Measuring  in  calm  presage 
The  infinite  descent ; 

^ So  to  the  end,  though  now  of  mortal  pangs 

> Made  heir,  and  emptied  of  thy  glory  awhile 
With  unaverted  eye 
Thou  meetest  all  the  storm. 

> Thou  wilt  feel  all,  that  thou  may’st  pity  all  ;* 

And  rather  wouldst  Thou  wrestle  with  strong 

pain, 

Than  overcloud  thy  soul, 

So  clear  in  agony, 

> Or  lose  one  glimpse  of  heaven  hefore  thq  time. 

> O most  entire  and  perfect  sacrifice, 

Renew’d  in  every  pulse 
That  on  the  tedious  cross 

l Told  the  long  hours  of  death,  as,  one  by  one. 

The  life-strings  of  that  tender  heart  gave  way; 
Even  Sinners,  taught  by  Thee, 

Look  sorrow  in  the  face, 

J And  bid  her  freely  welcome,  unbeguiled 
; By  false  kind  solaces,  and  spells  of  earth: — 

And  yet.  not  all  unsoothed  : 

For  when  was  joy  so  dear,  « 


" [“  For  in  that  he  himself  hath  suffered,  being  $ 
c tempted,  he  is  able  to  succour  them  also  that  are  t 
> tempted.” — Hebrews  ii.  18.]  ' 


112  WEDNESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


As  the  deep  calm  that  breathed,  “ Father,  for- 
give,’* 

Or,  “Be  with  me  in  Paradise  to-day?” 

And,  though  the  strife  be  sore, 

Yet  in  His  parting  breath 

Love  masters  agony  ; the  soul  that  seem’d 
Forsaken,  feels  her  present  God  again, 

And  in  her  Father’s  arms 
Contented  dies  away. 


WEDNESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


Saying,  Father,  if  thou  be  willing,  remove  this  cup 
> from  me:  nevertheless,  not  my  will,  but  thine  bedone. 
< St.  Luke  xxii.  42.  [Gospel  for  the  Day.'] 

\ O Lord  my  God,  do  Thou  thy  holy  will— 

\ I will  lie  still — 

| I will  not  stir,  lest  I forsake  thine  arm, 

' And  break  the  charm 

* Which  lulls  me,  clinging  to  my  Father’s  breast, 
i In  perfect  rest. 


Wild  Fancy,  peace  ! thou  must  not  me  beguile 
With  thy  false  smile; 

I know  thy  flatteries  and  thy  cheating  ways; 
Be  silent,  Praise, 

Blind  guide  with  siren  voice,  and  blinding  all 
That  hear  thy  call. 


Thoughts  that  in  thankfulness  endure, 


WEDNESDAY  BEFORE  EASTER.  113  i 

Though  dearest  hopes  are  faithless  found 
And  dearest  hearts  are  bursting  round. 

Coine,  Resignation,  spirit  meek, 

And  let  me  kiss  thy  placid  cheek, 

And  read  in  thy  pale  eye  serene 
Their  blessing,  who  by  faith  can  wean 
Their  hearts  from  sense,  and  learn  to  love 
God  only,  and  the  joys  above. 

They  say,  who  know  the  life  divine, 

And  upward  gaze  with  eagle  eyne, 

That  by  each  golden  crown  on  high,* 

Rich  with  celestial  jewelry, 

Which  for  our  Lord’s  redeem’d  is  set, 

There  hangs  a radiant  coronet, 

All  gemm’d  with  pure  and  living  light, 

Too  dazzling  for  a sinner’s  sight. 

Prepared  for  virgin  souls,  and  them 
Who  seek  the  martyr’s  diadem. 

Nor  deem,  who  to  that  bliss  aspire, 

Must  win  their  way  through  blood  and  fire. 

The  writhings  of  a wounded  heart 
Are  fiercer  than  a foeman’s  dart. 

Oft  in  life’s  stillest  shade  reclining, 

In  desolation  unrepining, 

Without  a hope  on  earth  to  find 
A mirror  in  an  answering  mind, 

Meek  souls  there  are,  who  little  dream 
Their  daily  strife  an  angel’s  theme, 


, That  little  coronet  or  special  reward  \ 

3 which  God  hath  prepared  (extraordinary  and  besides) 

< the  great  crown  of  all  faithful  souls)  for  those  “ who  < 
) have  not  defiied  themselves  with  women,  but  follow  > 
) the  [virgin]  Lamb  for  ever  ."—Bishop  Taylor,  Holy  < 

< Living,  c.  xi.  sect.  3. 


8 


Or  that  the  rod  they  take  so  calm 
Shall  prove  in  heaven  a martyr’s  palm. 

And  there  are  souls  that  seem  to  dwell 
Above  this  earth— so  rich  a spell 
Floats  round  their  steps,  where’er  they  move, 
From  hopes  fulfill’d  and  mutual  love. 

Such,  if  on  high  their  thoughts  are  set, 

Nor  in  the  stream  the  source  forget, 

If  prompt  to  quit  the  bliss  they  know. 
Following  the  Lamb  where’er  he  go, 

By  purest  pleasures  un beguiled 
To  idolize  or  wife  Or  child  ; 

Such  wedded  souls  our  God  shall  own 
For  faultless  virgins  round  his  throne. 

[ Thus  every  where  we  find  our  suffering  God, 

; And  where  He  trod 

; May  set  our  steps : the  cross  on  Calvary 
Uplifted  high 

[ Beams  on  the  martyr  host,  a beacon-light 
In  open  fight. 

> To  the  still  wrestlings  of  the  lonely  heart 

> He  doth  impart 

\ The  virtue  of  His  midnight  agony, 
l When  none  was  nigh, 

> Save  God  and  one  good  angel,  to  assuage 

The  tempest’s  rage. 

• Mortal!  if  life  smile  on  thee,  and  thou  find 
All  to  thy  mind, 

( Think,  who  did  once  from  heaven  to  hell  descend  £ 
Thee  to  befriend  : 
l So  shalt  thou  dare  forego,  at  His  dear  call, 

Thy  best,  thine  all. 

O Father ! not  my  will,  but  thine  be  done”— 

So  spake  the  Son. 


THURSDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


115 


l Be  this  our  charm,  mellowing  earth’s  ruder  noise  < 
Of  griefs  and  joys  ; 

That  we  may  cling  for  ever  to  thy  breast 
In  perfect  rest! 


THURSDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 

THE  VISION  OF  THE  LATTER  DAYS. 

t At  the  beginning  of  thy  supplications  the  command- 

< ment  came  forth,  and  I am  come  to  show  thee,  for  thou  s 
£ art  greatly  beloved  ; therefore  understand  the  matter,  < 

< and  consider  the  vision.  Daniel  ix.  23.  [ First  Morn - > 
\ ing  Lesson , Church  of  England .] 

“O  holy  mountain  of  my  God, 

How  do  thy  towers  in  ruin  lie  ; 

How  art  thou  riven  and  strewn  abroad, 

Under  the  rude  and  wasteful  sky  !” 

’Twas  thus  upon  his  fasting-day 
The  “ man  of  loves”  was  fain  to  pray,* 

His  lattice  openf  towards  his  darling  west, 

> Mourning  the  fum'd  home  he  still  must  love  the  \ 
best. 

Oh  for  a love  like  Daniel’s  now, 

To  wing  to  Heaven  but  one  strong  prayer 
For  God’s  new  Israel,  sunk  as  low, 

Yet  flourishing  to  sight  as  fair 
As  Sion  in  her  height  of  pride, 

With  queens  for  handmaids  at  her  side, 

With  kings  her  nursing-fathers,  throned  high, 

\ And  compass’d  with  the  world’s  too  tempting  / 
blazonry. 

* [“O  Daniel,  a man  greatly  beloved Hebrew,  ] 
] a man  of  desires,  or  loves.  Daniel  x.  11.] 
t Daniel  vi.  10. 


116  THURSDAY  BEFORE  EASTER. 


’Tis  true,  nor  winter  stays  thy  growth, 

Nor  torrid  summer’s  sickly  smile  ; 

The  flashing  billows  of  the  south 
Break  not  upon  so  lone  an  isle, 

But  thou,  rich  vine,  art  grafted  there, 

The  fruit  of  death  or  life  to  bear, 

Yielding  a surer  witness  every  day, 

\ To  thine  almighty  Author,  and  his  steadfast  sway.  $ 
Oh  grief  to  think,  that  grapes  of  gall 
Should  cluster  round  thine  healthiest  shoot ! 
God’s  herald  prove  a heartless  thrall, 

Who,  if  he  dared,  would  fain  be  mute  ! 

Even  such  is  this  bad  world  we  see. 

Which,  self-condemn’d  in  owning  thee. 

Yet  dares  not  open  farewell  of  thee  take, 

\ For  very  pride,  and  her  high-boasted  reason’s  $ 
sake. 

What  do  we  then  ? if  far  and  wide 
Men  kneel  to  Christ,  the  pure  and  meek, 

Yet  rage  with  passion,  swell  with  pride, 

Have  we  not  still  our  faith  to  seek  ? 

Nay — but  in  steadfast  humbleness 
Kneel  on  to  Him,  who  loves  to  bless 
The  prayer  that  waits  for  Him  ; and  trembling  l 
strive  < 

\ To  keep  the  lingering  flame  in  thine  own  breast  | 
alive. 

Dark  frown’d  the  future  even  on  him, 

The  lovihg  and  beloved  seer. 

What  time  he  saw,  through  shadows  dim, 

The  boundary  of  th’  eternal  year  ; 

He  only  of  the  sons  of  men 
Named  to  be  heir  of  glory  then.* 


* Dan.  xii.  13.  See  Bishop  Kenn’s  Sermon  on  the  > 
\ Character  of  Daniel.  < 


Else  had  it  braised  too  sore  his  tender  heart  > 
To  see  God’s  ransom’d  world  in  wrath  and  flame  j 
depart.  j 

[“All  these  wonderful  vouchsafements  from  above  to 
Daniel,  though  they  were  most  illustrious  demon-  l 
s; rations  that  he  was  greatly  beloved , yet  they  were  $ 
indulged  him  for  the  sake  of  others,  as  well  as  for  his  < 
own.  There  is  therefore  one  more  illustrious  than  all  \ 
these,  and  that  is  a favour  which  God  bestows  on  but  s 
very  few,  and  on  none  but  great  saints,  who  are  j 
greatly  beloved  ; and  not  usually  on  them,  till  near  | 
their  death,  and  is  the  very  top  blessing  of  which  man  \ 
is  capable  in  this  life,  the  highest  bliss  on  this  side  of  > 
heaven ; and  that  is  an  absolute  assurance  of  a glorious  s 
immortality;  and  such  an  assurance  as  this  had  the  £ 
beloved  Daniel : for  the  angel,  having  discoursed  to  > 
him  of  the  resurrection  of  those  that  sleep  in  the  dust,  l 
and  of  their  awaking  to  everlasting  life,  adds,  Go  ) 
thy  way  till  the  end  be : for  thou  shalt  rest,  and  s 
stand  in  the  lot  at  the  euil  of  the  days.  O the  un-  ? 

> utterable  felicity  of  this  man,  thus  greatly  beloved  by  S 
\ God!  whilst  the  generality  of  saints  sigh  under  their  flesh  < 
J and  blood,  which  clogs,  and  loads,  and  depresses  them  ; ; 

> whilst  the  penitent  are  still  begging  their  pardon,  and  ( 
| the  humble  full  of  fears  and  misgivings,  by  reason  of  ) 

> their  numerous  failings  : while  the  best  of  them  all  see  ) 
; heaven  only  through  a glass  darkly,  and  at  a distances  < 

andean  reach  no  higher  in  this  world  than  hope,  and  j 
desire,  and  reliance  on  God’s  promise,  and  patient  ex- 
, pectation ; Daniel,  the  man  greatly  beloved,  has  an 

> angel  sent  on  purpose  by  God,  to  assure  him  of  his  lot  5 
| in  a glorious  eternity,  and  that  his  mansion  there  was  < 

; prepared  and  brightened  to  receive  him.  And  yet  this  j 
, is  not  all ; Daniel  was  not  only  assured  of  future  glory,  < 

J but  of  a greater  degree  of  glory  than  others  had:  for  ? 

> having  made  it  his  great  business  here  below  to  love  5 
J God  himself,  and  greatly  to  love  him,  and  to  excite  ) 

> others  to  love  God  as  greatly  as  he  loved  him,  he  was  ; 

> to  have  more  sublime  exaltation  in  bliss  than  ordinary;  | 
! the  greater  his  love  was,  the  nearer  was  he  to  be  < 

seated  to  the  throne  of  God  his  beloved ; and  having 
( turned  many  to  righteousness,  he  was  to  shine  as  the  < 


! 118 


GOOD  FRIDAY. 


Then  look  no  more : or  closer  watch 
Thy  course  in  earth’s  bewildering  ways, 

For  every  glimpse  thine  eye  can  catch 
Of  what  shall  be  in  those  dread  days : 

So  when  th’  archangel’s  word  is  spoken. 

And  death’s  deep  trance  for  ever  broken, 

In  mercy  thou  may’st  feel  the  heavenly  hand, 
j And  in  thy  lot  unharm’d  before  thy  Saviour  j 
stand.* 


GOOD  FRIDAY.t 

He  is  despised  and  rejected  of  men. — Isaiah  liii.  j 
\ 3.  [ First  Evening  Lesson .] 

[Almighty  God,  we  beseech  thee  graciously  to  behold  i 
2 this  thy  family,  for  which  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ  was  < 
$ contented  to  be  betrayed,  and  given  up  into  the  hands  > 
] of  wicked  men,  and  to  suffer  death  upon  the  cross,  £ 

> who  now  liveth  and  reigneth  with  thee  and  the  Holy  2 
£ Ghost,  ever  one  God.Avorld  without  end.  Amen. 

Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  by  whose  spirit  the 
S whole  body  of  the  Church  is  governed  and  sanctified  ; 

< receive  our  supplications  and  prayers,  which  we  offer 

> before  thee  for  all  estates  of  men  in  thy  holy  Church, 
l that  every  member  of  the  same,  in  his  vocation  and 
i ministry,  may  truly  and  godly  serve  thee,  through  our 
) Lord  and  Saviour  Jesus  Christ.  Amen. 


( stars  for  ever  and  ever.''' — A short  Account  of  the 
? Life  of  the  Rt.  Rev.  Father  in  God , Thomas  Kenn, 
^ D.  D.  By  W.  Hawkins,  Esq.  London,  1713, 12 m/). 

* Dan.  xii.  13.  Thou  shaltrest,  and  stand  in  thy  lot 
£ at  the  end  of  the  days. 

. t [The  most  solemn  fast  of  the  Christian  Church, 
J observed  in  commemoration  of  her  Saviour’s  crucifix- 
> ion,  making  atonement  for  the  sins  of  men.] 


GOOD  FRIDAY. 


O merciful  G<xi,  who  hast  made  all  men,  and  hatest  ( 
nothing  that  thou  hast  made,  nor  desirest  the  death  of! 
a sinner,  but  rather  that  he  should  be  converted  and  \ 
live;  have  mercy  upon  all  Jews,  Turks,  Infidels,  and  ; 
Heretics;  and  take  from  them  all  ignorance,  hardness 
of  heart,  and  contempt  of  thy  word  ; and  so  fe  ch  them  ' 
home,  blessed  Lord,  to  thy  flock,  that  they  may  be  ( 
saved  among  the  remnant  of  the  true  Israelites,  and  ' 
be  made  one  fold  under  one  Shepherd,  Jesus  Christ  r 
our  Lord,  who  hveth  and  reigneth  with  thee  and  the  i 
Holy  Spirit,  one  God,  world  without  end.  jirnen.]  ( 

Is  it  not  strange,  the  darkest  hour  ] 

That  ever  dawn’d  on  sinful  earth 
Should  touch  the  heart  with  softer  power  \ 
For  comfort,  than  an  angel’s  mirth? 

That  to  the  cross  the  mourner’s  eye  should  turn  < 
Sooner  than  whejre  t he  stars  of  Christmas  burn  ? £ 

Sooner  than  where  the  Foster  sun  \ 

Shines  glorious  on  yon  open  grave,  < 

And  to  and  fro  the  tidings  run,  < 

“ Who  died  to  heal,  is  risen  to  save” — < 

Sooner  than  where  upon  the  Saviour’s  friends  £ 
The  very  Comforter  in  light  and  love  descends?  l 

Yet  so  it  is  : for  duly  there  \ 

The  bitter  herbs  of  earth  are  set, 

Till,  temper’d  by  the  Saviour’s  prayer,  < 

And  with  the  Saviour’s  life-blood  wet,  j 
They  turn  to  sweetness,  and  drop  holy  balm,  \ 
Soft  as  imprison’d  martyr’s  death-bed  calm.  ? 


That  bitterest  to  the  lip  of  pride, 

When  hopes  presumptuous  fade  and  fall, 

Or  friendship  scorns  us„duly  tried, 

Or  love,  the  flower  that  closes  up  for  fear 
When  rude  and  selfish  spirits  breathe  too  near. 


All  turn  to  sweet— but  most  of  all 


120 


GOOD  FRIDAY. 


Then.  like  a long-forgotten  strain, 

Comes  sweeping  o’er  the  heart  forlorn 

What  sunshine  hours  had  taught  in  vain 
Of  Jesus  suffering  shame  and  scorn, 
j As  in  all  lowly  hearts  he  suffers  still, 

; While  we  triumphant  ride,  and  have  the  world  at 
will. 

His  pierced  hands  in  vain  would  hide 
His  face  from  rude  reproachful  gaze; 

His  ears  tjre  open  to  abide 
The  wildest  storm  the  tongue  can  raise  ; 

: He  who  with  one  rough  word,*  some  early  day,f 
> Their  idol  world  and  them  shall  sweep  for  aye 
away. 

But  we  by  fancy  may  assuage 
The  festering  sore  by  fancy  made, 

Down  in  some  lonely  hermitage 
Like  wounded  pilgrims  safely  1 a i 1 , - 
Where  gentlest  breezes  whisper  souls  distress’d, 
That  love  yet  lives,  and  patience  shall  find  rest. 

Oh  ! shame  beyond  the  bitterest  thought 
That  evil  spirit  ever  framed, 

That  sinners  know  what  Jesus  wrought, 

Yet  feel  their  haughty  hearts  untamed — 


* Wisdom  of  Solomon  xii.  9. 
t [“  Nevertheless,  even  those  thou  sparedst  as  men,  j 
and  didst  send  wasps,  forerunners  of  thine  host,  to  i 
destroy  them  by  little  and  little.  Not  that  thou  wast  5 
unable  to  bring  the  ungodly  under  the  hand  of  the  < 
righteous  in  battle,  or  to  destroy  them  at  once  with 
cruel  beasts,  or  with  one  rough  word:  but  executing  j 
thy  judgments  upon  them  by  little  and  little,  thou  j 
gavest  them  place  of  repentance.’*  Wisdom  of  Solo- 
mon xii.  8,  9,  10.] 


EASTER  EVE. 


EASTER  EVE.  121 j 

l That  souls  in  refuge,  holding  by  the  cross, 
l Should  wince  and  fret  at  this  world’s  little  loss. 

Lord  of  my  heart,  by  thy  last  cry, 

Let  not  thy  blood  on  earth  be  spent — 

Lo,  at  thy  feet  I fainting  lie, 

Mine  eyes  upon  thy  wounds  are  bent ; 
l Upon  thy  streaming  wounds  my  weary  eyes 
; Wait  like  the  parched  earth  on  April  skies. 

Wash  me,  and  dry  these  bitter  tears, 

O let  my  heart  no  further  roam  ; 

’Tis  thine  by  vows,  and  hopes,  and  fears, 

Long  since — O call  thy  wanderer  home — 
l To  that  dear  home,  safe  in  thy  woundeu  side, 

) Where  only  broken  hearts  their  sin  and  shame  \ 
may  hide. 


EASTER  EVE. 


As  for  thee  also,  by  the  blood  of  thy  covenant  I have  J 
> sent  forth  thy  prisoners  out  of  the  pit  wherein  is  no  ] 
] water.  Zech.  ix.  11.  [ First  Morning  Lesson.] 

[Grant,  O Lord,  that  as  we  are  baptized  into  the  j! 
death  of  thy  blessed  Son  our  Saviour  Jesus  Christ,  so  1 
by  continual  mortifying  our  corrupt  affections,  we  may 
be  buried  with  him  ; and  that  through  the  grave  and 
gate  of  death  we  may  pass  to  our  joyful  resurrection, 
for  his  merits,  who  died,  and  was  buried,  and  rose  j 
again  for  us,  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

At  length  the  worst  is  o’er,  and  Thou  art  laid 
Deep  in  thy  darksome  bed ; 

All  still  and  cold  beneath  yon  dreary  stone 
Thy  sacred  form  is  gone ; 


122 


EASTER  EYE. 


Around  those  lips  where  power  and  mercy  hung,  ? 

The  dews  of  death  have  clung  ; £ 

The  dull  earth  o’er  Thee  and  thy  foes  around, 

> Thou  sleep’st  a silent  corse,  in  funeral  fetters  | 
wound. 

Sleep’st  Thou  indeed?  or  is  thy  spirit  fled, 

At  large  among  the  dead  ? 

Whether  in  Eden  bowers  thy  welcome  voice 
Wake  Abraham  to  rejoice, 

Or  in  some  drearier  scene  thine  eye  controls 
The  thronging  band  of  souls  ;* 

That,  as  thy  blood  won  earth,  thine  agony 
! Might  set  the  shadowy  realm  from  sin  and  sorrow  ; 
free. 

Where’er  Thou  roam’st,  one  happy  soul,  we  > 
know,f 

Seen  at  thy  side  in  wo,} 

Waits  on  thy  triumph— even  as  all  the  blest 
With  him  and  Thee  shall  rest. 

Each  on  his  cross,  by  'I'hee  we  hang  awhile, 
Watching  thy  patient  smile, 

Till  we  have  (earn’d  to  say,  “ ’Tis  justly  done, 

! Only  in  glory,  Lord,  thy  sinful  servant  own.” 


* [Easter  Eve  commemorates  the  period  between  > 
( the  death  of  Jesus  and  his  resurrection.  For  the  allu-  \ 
£ sion  here,  see  Bishop  Horsley  on  1 Peter  iii.  18,  19 — ? 
\ “ Being  put  to  death  in  the  flesh,  but  quickened  by  the  > 
? Spirit,  by  which,  also,  he  went  and  preached  unto  the  l 
S spirits  in  prison.”] 

t [The  penitent  thief.  “To-day  shalt  thou  be  with  [ 
I me  in  paradise.”  St.  Luke  xxiii.  43.J 

£ } St.  Luke  xxiii.  43. 


EASTER  EVE. 


123 


Soon  wilt  Thou  take  us  to  thy  tranquil  bower 
To  rest  one  little  hour, 

Till  thine  elect  are  number’d,  and  the  grave 
Call  Thee  to  come  and  save ; 

Then  on  thy  bosom  borne  shall  we  descend, 
Again  with  earth  to  blend, 

Earth  all  refined  with  bright  supernal  fires, 

| Tinctured  with  holy  blood,  and  wing’d  with  pure 
desires. 

Meanwhile  with  every  son  and  saint  of  thine 
Along  the  glorious  line, 

Sitting  by  turns  beneath  thy  sacred  feet, 

We'll  hold  communion  sweet, 

Know  them  by  look  and  voice,  and  thank  them  \ 
all 

For  helping  us  in  thrall, 

For  words  of  hope,  and  bright  examples  given 
\ To  show  through  moonless  skies  that  there  is  [ 
light  in  heaven. 

O come  that  day,  when  in  this  restless  heart 
Earth  shall  resign  her  part, 

When  in  the  grave  with  Thee  my  limbs  shall  \ 
rest, 

My  soul  with  Thee  be  bless’d  ! 

But  stay,  presumptuous  — Christ  with  thee  $ 
abides 

In  the  rock’s  dreary  sides  ; 

He  from  the  stone  will  wring  celestial  dew, 

> If  but  the  prisoner’s  heart  be  faithful  found  and  l 
true. 

When  tears  are  spent,  and  thou  art  left  alone 
With  ghosts  of  blessings  gone, 

Think  thou  art  taken  from  the  cross,  and  laid 
In  Jesus’s  burial  shade; 


4- 


124 


EASTER  DAY. 


-+ 


Take  Moses’  rod,  the  rod  of  prayer,  and  call 
Out  of  the  rocky  wall 
The  fount  of  holy  blood  ; and  lift  on  high 
Thy  grovelling  soul,  that  feels  so  desolate  and  dry. 

Prisoner  of  hope  thou  art*— look  up  and  sing 
In  hope  of  promised  spring. 

As  in  the  pit  his  father’s  darling  layf 
Beside  the  desert  way, 

And  knew  not  how,  but  knew  his  God  would 


Even  from  that  living  grave, 

So,  buried  with  our  Lord,  we’ll  close  our  eyes 
To  the  decaying  world,  till  angels  bid  us  rise. 


And  as 
faces  to 
ye  the  In 
is  risen.— 


* Zechi 
prisoners 
t Gen.  : 
a pit,  and 
1 Easte 
rise , is  th< 
rates  the 
It  is  alwa 
which  im 
the  vernal 
regulates 
not  be  ear 
25th  of  A 


save 


TPAorp-ni-D  n a v + 


•f 


EASTER  DAY. 


125  ] 


LAImighty  God,  who  through  thine  only  begotten  $ 
Son  Jesus  Christ  hast  overcome  death,  and  opened  i 

> unto  us  the  gate  of  everlasting  life  ; we  humbly  l 
J beseech  thee,  that  as,  by  thy  special  grace  preventing  > 

> us,  thou  dost  put  into  our  minds  good  desires:  so  by  < 
! thy  continual  help  we  may  bring  the  same  to  good  £ 
? effect,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  who  liveth  and  £ 
l reignefh  with  thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  ever  one  God, 

\ world  without  end.  Amen.] 

Oh  day  of  days!*  shall  hearts  set  free 
No  “ minstrel  rapture”  find  for  thee  ? 

Thou  art  the  sun  of  other  days, 

They  shine  by  giving  back  thy  rays  : 

Enthroned  in  thy  sovereign  sphere, 

Thou  shedd’st  thy  light  on  all  the  year: 
Sundays  by  thee  more  glorious  break, 

An  Easter  day  in  every  week  :\ 

And  week-days  following  in  their  train, 

The  fulness  of  thy  blessing  gain, 

Till  all,  both  resting  and  employ, 

Be  one  Lord  s day  of  holy  joy 4 

Then  wake,  my  soul,  to  high  desires, § 

And  earlier  light  thine  altar  fires: 


* [Easter  was  anciently  called  the  Great  Day,  the  j 
Feast  of  feasts,  and  the  Queen  of  feasts.] 

, f [The  first  day  of  the  week,  Sunday,  being  hallowed  | 
> from  the  apostles’  times,  as  commemorative  of  the  ? 
! resurrection,  is,  as  it  were,  a weekly  Easter.] 

t [“  Can  there  be  any  day  but  this, 

Though  many  suns  to  shine  endeavour  1 
We  count  three  hundred  ; but  we  miss  : 

There  is  but  one  ; and  that  one,  ever." 

“Easter,"  by  George  Herbert.] 

§ [“  Rise,  heart ; thy  Lord  is  risen.  Sing  his  praise 
Without  delays 


! 126  EASTER  .DAY. 

The  world  some  hours  is  on  her  way, 

Nor  thinks  on  thee,  thou  blessed  day.* 

Or,  if  she  think,  it  is  in  scorn  : 

The  vernal  light  of  Easter  morn 
To  her  dark  gaze  no  brighter  seems 
Than  reason’s  or  the  law’s  pale  beams. 

“ Where  is  your  Lord  ?”  she  scornful  asks : 
“ Where  is  his  hire  ? we  know  his  tasks ; 
Sons  of  a king  ye  boast  to  be  ; 

Let  us  your  crowns  and  treasures  see.” 

We  in  the  words  of  truth  reply, 

(An  angel  brought  them  from  the  sky,) 

“ Our  crown,  our  treasure  is  not  here, 

’Tis  stored  above  the  highest  sphere. 


Who  takes  thee  by  the  hand,  that  thou  likewise 
With  him  mayest  rise.” 

“ Easter,"  by  George  Herbert .] 

, * [“  It  is  Easter,  beautiful  Easter.  The  time  in  all  | 

> the  year  when  nature’s  types  most  clearly  shadow  forth  j 
! the  realities  of  the  Christian  dispensation.  For  the  > 

> first  butterfly  has  burst  from  its  grave-clothes,  and  is  < 
gone  up  towards  heaven  in  the  light  of  this  season  ; ) 

\ and  look  ! a thousand  blossoms  hang  on  branches  that  s 

> were  to  all  appearance  dead  last  week— nay  ! that  but  l 
i fortnight  ago  were  bending  beneath  a heavy  load  of  > 

> snow  ; and  see  how  the  chestnut  buds,  wrapped  up  as  l 

> they  were  by  God’s  own  hand  with  inimitable  art,  fold  ? 
I within  fold,  have  heard  the  voice  of  God  in  the  garden,  < 

and  burst  their  cerements,  and  sprung  forth  in  beauty,  i 

> exulting  in  the  life  He  has  renewed  to  them.  And  the  < 

> primroses  too  are  up,  round  the  foot  of  the  old  cross,  < 

> and  the  daisies  and  the  cuckoo-flowers  are  awake,  < 
\ and,  rising  out  of  their  graves  under  every  hedge,  tell  < 

> their  tale  of  hope  and  the  resurrection.”  Scenes  in  our  < 

> Parish , by  a Country  Parson's  Daughter .] 


EASTER  DAY. 


127 


Methinks  your  wisdom  guides  amiss, 

To  seek  on  earth  a Christian’s  bliss  ; 

We  watch  not  now  the  lifeless  stone ; 

Our  only  Lord  is  risen  and  gone.” 

Yet  even  the  lifeless  stone  is  dear 
For  thoughts  of  him  who  late  lay  here  ; 
And  the  base  world,  now  Christ  hath  died. 
Ennobled  is  and  glorified. 

No  more  a charnel-house,  to  fence 
The  relics  of  lost  innocence, 

A vault  of  ruin  and  decay; 

Th’  imprisoning  stone  is  roll’d  away. 

’Tis  now  a cell,  where  angels  use 
To  come  and  go  with  heavenly  news, 

And  in  the  ears  of  mourners  say, 

“ Come  see  the  place  where  Jesus  lay 

’Tis  now  a fane,  where  love  can  find 
Christ  every  where  embalm’d  and  shrined; 
Aye  gathering  up  memorials  sweet. 
Where’er  she  sets  her  duteous  feet. 

Oh ! joy  to  Mary  first  allow’d, 

When  roused  from  weeping  o’er  his  shroud, 
By  his  own  calm,  soul-soothir^  tone, 
Breathing  her  name,  as  still  his  own  ! 

Joy  to  the  faithful  three  renew’d, 

As  their  glad  errand  they  pursued! 

Happy,  who  so  Christ’s  word  convey, 

That  he  may  meet  them  on  their  way  ! 

So  is  it  still ; to  holy  tears, 

In  lonely  hours,  Christ  risen  appears; 

In  social  hours,  who  Christ  would  see, 

Must  turn  all  tasks  to  charity. 


>128 


MONDAY  IN  EASTER  WEEK. 


MONDAY  IN  EASTER  WEEK. 


ST.  PETER  AND  CORNELIUS. 

Of  a truth,  I perceive  that  God  is  no  respecter  of  \ 

> persons ; but  in  every  nation  he  that  fearelh  him  and  < 
£ worketh  righteousness  is  accepted  with  him.  Acts  x.  i 

< 34  , 35.  [Scripture  appointed  as  the  Epistle  for  the  ] 
; Day.] 

[Almighty  God,  who  through  thine  only  begotten 

> Son  Jesus  Christ  hast  overcome  death,  and  opened 
] unto  us  the  gate  of  everlasting  life  ; we  humbly  beseech 
i thee,  that  as,  by  thy  special  grace  preventing  us,  thou 
S dost  put  into  our  minds  good  desires ; so  by  thy  con- 

< tinual  help  we  may  bring  the  same  to  good  effect, 

\ through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord  ; who  liveth  and 
s reign^th  with  thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  ever  one  God, 

? world  without  end.  Amen.] 

Go  up  and  watch  the  new-born  rill 
Just  trickling  from  its  mossy  bed, 

( Streaking  the  heath-clad  hill 

With  a bright  emerald  thread. 

Canst  thou  her  bold  career  foretell, 

What  rocks  she  shall  o’erleap  or  rend, 

How  far  in  ocean’s  swell 
Her  freshening  billows  send? 

Perchance  that  little  brook  shall  flow 
The  bulwark  of  soipe  mighty  realm, 

Bear  navies  to  and  fro 
With  monarchs  at  their  helm. 

Or  canst  thou  guess,  how  far  away 
Some  sister  nymph,  beside  her  urn 
Reclining  night  and  day, 

’Mid  reeds  and  mountain  fern, 


MONDAY  IN  EASTER  WEEK.  129 

Nurses  her  store,  with  thine  to  blend 
When  many  a moor  and  glen  are  past, 
Then  in  the  wide  sea  end 
Their  spotless  lives  at  last  ? 

Even  so,  the  course  of  prayer  who  knows  ? 
It  springs  in  silence  where  it  will, 

Springs  out  of  sight,  and  flows 
At  first  a lonely  rill : 

But  streams  shall  meet  it  by  and  by 
From  thousand  sympathetic  hearts, 
Together  swelling  high 
Their  chant  of  many  parts. 

Unheard  by  all  but  angel  ears 
The  good  Cornelius  knelt  alone, 

Nor  dreamjd  his  prayers  and  tears 
Would  help  a world  undone. 

The  while  upon  his  terraced  roof 
The  loved  apostle  to  his  Lord 
In  silent  thought  aloof 
For  heavenly  vision  soar’d. 

Far  o’er  the  glowing  western  main* 

His  wistful  brow  was  upward  raised, 
Where,  like  an  angel’s  train, 

The  burnish’d  water  blazed. 

The, saint  beside  the  ocean  pray’d, 

The  soldier  in  his  chosen  bower, 

Where  all  his  eye  survey’d 
Seem’d  sacred  in  that  hour.t 


* [Peter  was  at  Joppa,  on  the  eastern  shore  of  the  \ 

; Mediterranean.] 

t [“The  sacred  peacefulness  of  prayer.”  Bishop  < 
^ Mant , Gospel  Miracles,  2.  32.]  ^ 


9 


130 


TUESDAY  IN  EASTER  WEEK. 

To  each  unknown  his  brother’s  prayer,* 
Yet  brethren  true  in  dearest  love 
Were  they — and  now  they  share 
Fraternal  joys  above. 

There  tiaily  through  Christ’s  open  gate 
They  see  the  Gentile  spirits  press, 
Brightening  their  high  estate 
With  dearer  happiness. 

What  civic  wreath  for  comrades  saved 
Shone  ever  with  such  deathless  gleam, 
Or  when  did  perils  braved 
So  sweet  to  veterans  seem  ? 


TUESDAY  IN  EASTEB  WEES'. 


THE  SNOW-DROP. 


And  they  departed  quickly  from  the  sepulchre  with  c 

< fear  and  great  joy,  and  did  run  to  bring  His  disciples  \ 
/ word.  St.  Matthew  xxviii.  8. 

j [Almighty  God,  who  through  thine  only  begotten  $ 
5 Son  Jesus  Christ  hast  overcome  death,  and  opened  < 

< unto  us  the  gate  of  everlasting  life  ; we  humbly  beseech  j 
) thee,  that  as,  by  thy  special  grace  preventing  us,  thou 

t dost  put  into  our  minds  good  desires  ; so  by  thy  con- 
tinual help  we  may  bring  the  same  to  good  effect. 

| through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord ; who  liveth  and  < 
( reigneth  with  thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  ever  one  God,  « 
£ world  without,  end.  Amen. ] 


r [See  the  beautiful  story  of  Cornelius,  in  Acts.,x.] 


TUESDAY  IN  EASTER  WEEK.  131  j 

Thou  first-born  of  the  year’s  delight,* 

Pride  of  the  dewy  glade, 

In  vernal  green  and  virgin  white, 

Thy  vestal  robes  array’d  ; 

’Tis  not  because  thy  drooping  form 
Sinks  graceful  on  its  nest, 

When  chilly  shades  from  gathering  storm 
Affright  thy  tender  breast; 

Nor  for  yon  river  islet  wild 
Beneath  the  willow  spray, 

Where,  like  the  ringlets  of  a child, 

Thou  weavest  thy  circle  gay ; 

’Tis  not  for  these  I love  thee  dear 
Thy  shy  averted  smiles 

To  fancy  bode  a joyous  year, 

One  of  life’s  fairy  isles. 

They  twinkle  to  the  wintry  moon, 

And  cheer  th’  ungenial  day, 

And  tell  us,  all  will  glisten  soon 
As  green  and  bright  as  they. 

Is  there  a heart,  that  loves  the  spring. 

Their  witness  can  refuse? 

Yet  mortals  doubt,  when  angels  bring 
From  heaven  their  Easter  news  ; 

VMen  holy  maids  and  matrons  speak 
Of  Christ’s  forsaken  bed,' 

And  voices,  that  forbid  to  seek 
The  living  ’mid  the  dead. 


* [“  We  catch  the  first  flower  of  the  season,  too,  the  > 
l little  snow-drop  ( galanthus  nivalis),  haply  rearing  ils  £ 
J tiny  bell,  through  the  lingering  snow,  under  some  \ 
> hedge  or  bank.”  Mudie’s  British  J\Taluralist,  vol.  ii. 
107.] 


132 


TUESDAY  IN  EASTER  WEEK. 


And  when  they  say*  “ Turn,  wandering  heart, 
Thy  Lord  is  risen  indeed ; 

Let  pleasure  go,  put  care  apart, 

And  to  his  presence  speed 

We  smile  in  scorn ; and  yet  we  know 
They  early  sought  the  tomb, 

Their  hearts,  that  now  so  freshly  glow. 

Lost  in  desponding  gloom. 

They  who  have  sought,  nor  hope  to  find, 
Wear  not  so  bright  a glance ; 

They  who  have  won  their  earthly  mind, 
Less  reverently  advance. 

But  where,  in  gentle  spirits,  fear 
And  joy  so  duly  meet, 

These  sure  have  seen  the  angels  near, 

And  kiss’d  the  Sayiour’s  feet. 

Nor  let  the  pastor’s  thankful  eye 
Their  faltering  tale  disdain, 

As  on  their  lowly  cou£h  they  lie, 

Prisoners  of  want  and  pain. 

O guide  us.  when  our  faithless  hearts 
From  Thee  would  start  aloof, 

Where  patience  her  sweet  skill  imparts 
Beneath  some  cottage  roof:  . 

Revive  our  dying  fires,  to  burn 
High  as  her  anthems  soar. 

And  of  our  scholars  let  us  learn 
Our  own  forgotten  lore. 


* 

FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  133  j 


FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


THE  RESTLESS  PASTOR  REPROVED. 

Seemeth  it  but.  a small  thing  unto  you,  that  the  God  \ 
of  Israel  hath  separated  you  from  the  congregation  of) 
[ Israel,  to  bring  you  near  to  Himself'?  Numbers  xvi.  £ 
£ 9.  [ First  Morning  Lesson , Church  of  England.} 

[Almighty  Father,  who  hast  given  thine  only  Son  to  ) 
die  for  our  sins,  and  to  rise  again  for  our  justification  ; ( 
; grant  us  so  to  put  away  the  leaven  of  malice  and  ? 

> wickedness,  that  we  may  always  serve  thee  in  pureness  S 
£ of  living  and  truth,  through  the  merits  of  the  same,  < 

> thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.} 

First  father  of  the  holy  seed, 

If  yet,  invoked  in  hour  of  need. 

Thou  count  me  for  thine  own ; 

Not  quite  an  outcast  if  I prove, 

(Thou  joy’st  in  miracles  of  love,) 

Hear,  from  thy  mercy-throne  ! 

Upon  thine  altar’s  horn  of  gold 
Help  me  to  lay  my  trembling  hold, 

Though  stain’d  with  Christian  gore — 

The  blood  of  souls  by  Thee  redeem’d,* 

But,  while  I roved  or  idly  dream’d, 

Lost  to  be  found  no  more. 

* [“But  if  the  watchman  see  the  sword  come,  and  < 

> blow  not  the  trumpet,  and  the  people  be  not  warned: ) 
l if  the  sword  come,  and  take  any  person  from  among  $ 

) them,  he  is  taken  away  in  his  iniquity,  but  his  blood ) 

> will  I require  at  the  watchman1  s hand."  Ezekiel  > 

; xxxiii.  6.  < 

> “ Take  heed,  therefore,  unto  yourselves,  and  to  all ) 
l the  flock  over  the  which  the  Holy  Ghost  has  made  you  S 
) overseers,  to  feed  the  Church  of  God,  which  he  hath  $ 

!-  purchased  with  his  blood."  Acts  xx.  28.] 


134  FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


For  oft,  when  summer  leaves  were  bright, 
And  every  flower  was  bathed  in  light, 

In  sunshine  moments  past, 

My  wilful  heart  would  burst  away 
From  whei’e  the  holy  shadow  lay, 

Where  Heaven  my  lot  had  cast. 

I thought  it  scorn  with  thee  tp  dwell, 

A hermit  in  a silent  cell, 

While,  gayly  sweeping  by, 

Wild  Fancy  blew  his  bugle  strain, 

And  marshall’d  all  his  gallant  train 
In  the  world’s  wondering  eye. 

I would  have  join’d  him — but  as  oft 
They  whisper’d  warnings,  kind  and  soft, 

My  better  soul  confess’d. 

“ My  servant,  let  the  world  alone— 

Safe  on  the  steps  of  Jesus’  throne 
Be  tranquil  and  be  blest. 

“ Seems  it  to  thee  a niggard  hand 
That  nearest  heaven  has  bade  thee  stand, 

The  ark  to  touch  and  bear. 

With  incense  of  pure  hearts’  desire 
To  heap  the  censer’s  sacred  fire, 

The  snow-white  ephod  wear  ?” 

Why  should  we  crave  the  worldling’s  wreath, 51 
On  whom  the  Saviour  deign’d  to  breathe. 

To  whom  his  keys  were  given, 

Who  lead  the  choir  where  angels  meet, 

With  angels’  food  our  brethren  greet, 

And  pour  the  drink  of  heaven  ? 


* [Can  there  bo  imagined  a more  eloquent  delinea-  < 
> tion  of  the  pure  and  exalted  pleasures  of  the  pastoral  ? 
j office  than  is  afforded  in  the  lines  which  follow  ; or  5 
; a pastoral  heart  that  is  not  moved  by  them  to  deeper  c 
\ gratitude  and  more  devoted  earnestness '?]  ? 


4-- 


+ 

FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  135  j 


When  sorrow  all  our  heart  would  ask, 

We  need  not  shut)  our  daily  task, 

And  hide  ourselves  for  calm  ; 

The  herbs  we  seek  to  heal  our  wo 
Familiar  by  our  pathway  grow, 

Our  common  air  is  balm. 

Around  each  pure  domestic  shrine 
Bright  flowers  of  Eden  bloom  and  twine, 
Our  hearths  are  altars  all ; 

The  prayers  of  hungry  souls  and  poor, 
Like  armed  angels  at  the  door, 

Our  unseen  foes  appal. 

Alms  all  around  and  hymns  within — 
What  evil  eye  can  entrance  win 
Where  guards  like  these  abound? 

If  chance  some  heedless  heart  should  roam, 
Sure,  thought  of  these  will  lure  it  home 
Ere  lost  in  folly’s  round. 

O joys  that,  sweetest  in  decay. 

Fall  not,  like  wither’d  leaves,  away, 

But  with  the  silent  breath 
Of  violets  drooping  one  by  one, 

Soon  as  their  fragrant  task  is  done, 

Are  wafted  high  in  death ! 


t 


136  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


He  hath  said,  which  heard  the  words  of  God,  and  j 
$ knew  the  knowledge  of  the  Most  High  : which  saw  < 
< the  vision  of  the  Almighty,  falling  into  a trance,  but  ) 
? having  his  eyes  open  : l shall  see  him,  but  not  now  ; l j 
<!  shall  behold  him,  but  not  nigh  : there  shall  come  a I 
$ Star  out  of  Jacob,  and  a Sceptre  shall  arise  out  of  $ 

> Israel,  and  shall  smite  the  corners  of  Moab,  and  destroy  < 
l all  the  children  of  Sheth.  — Numbers  xxiv.  16,  17.  J 

> [First  Morning  Lesson , Church  of  England..] 

, [Almighty  God,  who  hast  given  thine  only  Son  to  be  1 
unto  us  both  a sacrifice  for  sin,  and  also  an  ensample  J 

> of  godly  life ; give  us  grace  that  we  may  always  most  < 

> thankfully  receive  that,  his  inestimable  benefit,  and  also  ! 
[ daily  endeavour  ourselves  to  follow  the  blessed  steps  of 

c his  most,  holy  life,  through  the  same,  Jesus  Christ  our  ' 
[ Lord.  Amen.] 

O for  a sculptor’s  hand, 

That  thou  might’st  take  thy  stand,* 

\ Thy  wild  hair  floating  on  the  eastern  breeze, 

Thy  tranced  yet  open  gaze 
Fix’d  on  t[ie  desert  haze, 

; As  one  who  deep  in  heaven  some  airy  pageant  sees. 

In  outline  dim  and  vast, 

Their  fearful  shadows  cast 

> The  giant  forms  of  empires,  on  their  way 
* To  ruin  ; one  by  one 

They  tower— and  they  are  gone  ; 

\ Yet  in  the  prophet’s  soul  the  dreams  of  avarice  \ 
stay.f 


* LThe  prophet  Balaam.] 
t [“  Balaam,  the  son  of  Bosor,  who  loved  the  wages  j 
^of  unrighteousness .” — 2 Peter  ii.  15.] 


136  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  137  \ 

> No  sun  or  star  so  bright 

> In  all  the  world  of  light, 

i That  they  should  draw  to  heaven  his  downward  \ 
} eye ; 

; He  hears  th’  Almighty’s  word, 

! He  sees  the  angel’s  sword, 

[ Yet  low  upon  the  earth  his  heart  and  treasure  \ 
lie. 

Lo  ! from  yon  argent  field, 

To  him  and  us  reveal’d. 

| One  gentle  star  glides  down,  on  earth  to  dwell ; 
Chain’d  as  they  are  below, 

Our  eyes  may  see  it  glow, 

! And  as  it  mounts  again,  may  track  its  brightness  \ 
j well. 

£ To  him  it  glared  afar, 

/ A token  of  wild  war, 
j The  banner  of  his  Lord’s  victorious  wrath ; 

) But  close  to  us  it  gleams, 

| Its  soothing  lustre  streams 

i Around  our  home’s  green  walls,  and  on  our  £ 
i church-way  path. 

) We  in  the  tents  abide 

1 Which  he  at  distance  eyed, 

Like  goodly  cedars  by  the  waters  spread, 

While  seven  red  altar-fires* 

< Rose  up  in  wavy  spires, 

> Where  on  the  mount  he  watch’d  his  sorceries  | 
( dark  and  dread. 

£ He  watch’d  till  morning’s  ray 

? Qn  lake  and  meadow  lay, 

) And  willow-shaded  streams,  that  silent  sweep 

< * [“  Build  me  here  seven  altars.”— Numbers  xxxiii.  ) 

>1.)  5 


’ 138  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


$. 


Around  the  banner’d  lines,* 

Where  by  their  several  signs 

> The  desert-wearied  tribes  in  sight  of  Canaan  ' 
sleep. 

He  watch’d  till  knowledge  came 
Upon  his  soul  like  flame, 

! Not  of  those  magic  fires  at  random  caught ; 

But  true  prophetic  light 
Flash’d  o’er  him,  high  and  bright, 

; Flash’d  once,  and  died  away,  and  left  his  darken'd 
thought. 

And  can  he  choose  but  fear, 

Who  feels  his  God  so  near, 

That,  when  he  fain  would  curse,  his  powerless 
tongue 

In  blessing  only  moves? — 

Alas!  the  world  he  loves 

> Too  close  around  his  heart  her  tangling  veil  hath 
flung. 

Sceptre  and  Star  divine, \ 

Who  in  thine  inmost  shrine 
Hast  made  us  worshippers,  O claim  thine  own; 
More  than  thy  seers  we  know— 

O teach  our  love  to  grow 
» Up  to  thy  heavenly  light,  and  reap  what  thou 
hast  sown. 


* [“And  Balaam  lifted  up  his  eyes,  and  he  saw  Israel  l 
abiding  in  his  tents,  according  to  their  tribes.” — Num- 
[ bers  xxiv.  2.] 

, t [“There  shall  come  a Star  out  of  Jacob,  and 
> Sceptre  shall  rise  out  of  Israel — prophetic  types  of  > 
l the  Messiah.] 


~4- 

THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  139  f- 


THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 

LANGUOR  AND  TRAVAIL. 

[A  woman  when  she  is  in  travail  hath  sorrow, 

» because  her  hour  is  come:  but  when  she  is  delivered  \ 
! of  the  child,  she  remembereth  no  more  the  anguish,  ? 
! for  joy  that  a man  is  born  into  the  world.  — St.  John  > 
> xvi.  21.  [ Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[Almighty  God,  who  showest  to  them  that  are  in  l 
J error  the  light  of  thy  truth,  to  the  intent  that  they  may  > 
return  into  the  way  of  righteousness;  grant  unto  all  \ 
those  who  are  admitted  into  the  fellowship  of  Christ’s  ? 
religion,  that  they  may  avoid  those  things  that  are  $ 
[ contrary  to  their  profession,  and  follow  all  such  things  l 
; as  are  agreeable  to  the  same,  through  our  Lord  Jesus  / 
| Christ.  Amen.] 

Well  may  I guess  and'feel 
Why  autumn  should  be  sad  ; 

But  vernal  airs  should  sorrow  heal, 

Spring  should  be  gay  and  glad  ;* 

Yet  as  along  this  violet  bank  I rove, 

The  languid  sweetness  seems  to  choke  my  \ 
breath, 


4." 


* [Keble  is  a dear  lover  of  the  spring.  It  is  in  l 
harmony  with  his  Christian  hopes,  and  it  indulges  in  l 
him  that  keen  and  grateful  love  of  life  which  breathes  > 
in  all  he  writes.  “ That  is  the  grand  time  of  observa-  \ 
tion,”  says  one  of  nature’s  shrewdest  observers,  “the  > 
busy  season  with  all  nature,  in  every  thing  that  grows  ) 
and  lives.  How  countless  are  the  millions  of  little  l 
buds,  which  one  of  these  ‘showering  and  shining’  > 
days  brings  into  leaf  I They  are  fresh  and  washed  by  l 
the  shower ; and  when  the  warmth  comes,  you  would  \ 
absolutely  think  that  you  can  both  see  and  hear  them  S 
cracking  their  scaly  cases  in  which  they  were  confined  l 
and  protected  for  the  winter ; aad  that  the  little  green  ? 


4 — 


5 140  THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


I sit  me  down  beside  the  hazel  grove, 

\ And  sigh,  and  half  could  wish  my  weariness  were 
death. 


< tufts  were  toiling,  like  living  and  rational  creatures, 

< at  strife,  which  should  produce  the  finest  shoot  and 
} the  fairest  blossom.  Then  the  whisking  wings  and 
( the  thrilling  throats  are,  apparently,  enough  to  put  the 
/ air  into  a slate  of  commotion.  And  they  are  all  in  the 
j act  of  beautifying  nature  too:  some  are  plucking  the 
( dry  grass,  'so  that  the  fields  may  look  green  ; others 
Save  gathering  up  the  withered  sticks;  others,  again, 

< the  lost  feathers  and  hairs;  and  others  still  are  pulling 
$ the  lichens  from  the1  bark  of  the  trees.  The  merles 
l and  the  mavises  are  running  under  the  hedges  and  the 

< evergreens  in  the  shrubbery,  and  capturing  the  snails 

> in  their  winter  habitations,  before  they  have  had  time 

< to  prepare  those  hordes  which  would  be  the  pest  of 
? the  gardeners  for  the  whole  season.  Other  birds  are 
s inspecting  the  buds  in  the  orchard,  aUd  picking  oft 
( every  one  which  contains  a caterpillar  or  a nest  of 
; eggs,  that  would  pour  forth  their  destructive  horde, 

< and  render  the  whole  tree  lifeless-  Yonder  again  are 
$ the  rooks,  clearing  the  meadow  of  the  young  cock- 
s chafers,  which  the  heat  has  brought  nearer  to  the  sur- 
( face  ; and  which,  if  they  were  to  remain  there,  would 
5 soon  begin  to  eat  the  roots  of  the  grass  to  such 

< extent  that  the  turf  would  peel  off’  as  easily  as  the 
\ withered  tunic  of  an  onion.  Some  of  them  come  from 
S a distance  too,  for  there  are  the  white  sea-gulls,  with 
( their  long  bent  wings  and  their  wailing  screams,  busy 
) in  the  same  field  with  the  ploughmen,  and  picking  up 

< the  'animal  weeds,’  while  the  ploughs  are  turning 

\ down  the  vegetable  ones.  All  the  countless  races  of  l 
£ that  time  of  labour  and  love,  both  native  and  visitant,  5 
l are  busy  following  their  own  purpose,  or  rather  the  < 

> law  of  their  being,  for  they  form  no  purpose  of  their  > 

< oflrn,  or  they  would  sometimes  commit  errors  of  s 
^judgment  as  we  do,  but  they  do  not.” — JWudie's  Ob-  £ 
5 servation  of  Nature,  pp.  177,  178.] 


THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  141  ^ 


Like  a bright  veering  cloud 
Gray  blossoms  twinkle  there, 

Warbles  around  a busy  crowd 
Of  larks  in  purest  air. 

Shame  on  the  heart  that  dreams  of  blessings  $ 
gone, 

Or  wakes  the  spectral  forms  of  wo  and  crime, 
When  nature  sings  of  joy  and  hope  alone, 

! Reading  her  cheerful  lesson  in  her  own  sweet  £ 
time. 

Nor  let  the  proud  heart  say, 

In  her  self-torturing  hour, 

The  travail  pangs  mpst  have  their  way, 

The  aching  brow  must  lower. 

To  us  long  since  the  glorious  child  is  born  ; 

Our  throes  should  be  forgot,  or  only  seem 
Like  a sad  vision  told  for  joy  at  morn, 

> For  joy  that  we  have  waked  and  found  it  but  a ^ 
dream. 

Mysterious  to  all  thought 
A mother’s  prime  of  bliss, 

When  to  her  eager  lips  is  brought 
Her  infant’s  thrilling  kiss. 

O never  shall  it  set,  the  sacred  light 
Which  dawns  that  moment  on  her  tender  gaze,  $ 
Tn  the  eternal  distance  blending  bright 
i Her  darling’s  hope  and  her’s,  for  love  and  joy  and  \ 
praise. 

No  need  for  her  to  weep 
Like  Thracian  wives  of  yore, 

Save  when  in  rapture  still  and  deep 
Her  thankful  heart  runs  o’er. 

They  mourn’d  to  trust  their  treasure  on  the  $ 
main,  > 

Sure  of  the  storm,  unknowing  of  their  guide : ? 


*^142 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


Welcome  to  her  the  peril  and  the  pain, 

> For  well  she  knows  the  home  where  they  may  $ 
safely  hide*. 

She  joys  that  one  is  born 
Into  a world  forgiven, 

Her  father’s  household  to  adorn, 

And  dwell  with  her  in  heaven. 

So  have  I seen,  in  spring’s  bewitching  hour, 
When  the  glad  earth  is  offering  all  her  best, 
Some  gentle  maid  bend  o’er  a cherish’d  flower, 

• And  wish  it  worthier  on  a parent’s  heart  to  rest.} 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


THE  DOVE  ON  THE  CROSS. 

Nevertheless,  I tell  you  the  truth  ; it  is  expedient  for  \ 
you  that  I go  away  : for  if  I go  not  away, the  Comforter  S 
will  not  come  unto  you  ; but  if  1 depart.  I will  send  < 
him  unto  you.  St.  John  xvi.7.  [Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

, TO  Almighty  God,  who  alone  canst  order  the  unruly  $ 
•wills  and  affections  of  sinful  men;  grant  unto  thy  v* 
£ people,  that  they  may  love  the  thing  which  thou  com-  £ 
? mandest  and  desire  that  which  thou  dost  promise  ; that  l 
l so,  among  the  sundry  and  manifold  changes  of  the  > 
c world,  our  hearts  may  surely  there  be  fixed,  where  true  £ 
> joys  are  to  be  found,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

] Amen-.] 

My  Saviour,  can  it  ever  be 
That  I should  gain  by  losing  Thee  ? 

The  watchful  mother  tarries  nigh, 

Though  sleep  have  closed  her  infant’s  eye  ; 

For  should  he  wake,  and  find  her  gone, 

She  knows  she  could  not  hear  his  moan. 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  143  \ 

But  I atn  weaker  than  a child, 

And  Thou  art  more  than  mother  dear: 
Without  Thee  heaven  were  but  a wild: 

How  can  I live  without  Thee  here  7 

“ ’Tis  good  for  you  that  I should  go, 

You  lingering  yet  awhile  below  — 

’Tis  thine  own  gracious  promise,  Lord! 

Thy  saints  have  proved  the  faithful  word, 

When  heaven’s  bright  boundless  avenue 
Far  open’d  on  their  eager  view, 

And  homeward  to  thy  Father’s  throne, 

Still  lessening,  brightening  on  their  sight, 

Thy  shadowy  car  went  soaring  on  ; 

They  track’d  Thee  up  th’  abyss  of  light. 

Thou  bid’st  rejoice  ; they  dare  not  mourn, 

But  to  their  home  in  gladness  turn, 

Their  home  and  God’s,  that  favour’d  place, 
Where  stillhe  shines  on  Abraham’s  race, 

In  prayers  and  blessings  there  to  wait 
Like  suppliants  at  their  monarch’s  gate, 

Who,  bent  with  bounty  rare  to  aid 
The  splendours  of  his  crowning  day, 

Keeps  back  awhile  his  largess,  made 
More  welcome  for  that  brief  delay : 

In  doubt  they  wait,  but  not  unblest; 

They  doubt  not  of  their  master’s  rest, 

Nor  of  the  gracious  will  of  Heaven — 

Who  gave  his  Son,  sure  all  has  given—** 

But  in  ecstatic  awe  they  muse 
What  course  the  genial  stream  may  choose, 


[ ‘ He  who  spared  not  his  own  Son,  but  delivered  } 
< him  up  for  us  all,  how  shall  he  not  with  him  also  freely  ? 
) give  us  all  things  Romans  viii.  32.]  s 


I 144  FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


1 


And  far  and  wide  their  fancies  rotfe, 

And  to  their  height  of  wonder  strain, 
What  secret  miracle  of  love 
Should  make  their  Saviour’s  going  gain. 

The  days  of  hope  and  prayer  are  past, 

The  day  of  comfort  dawns  at  last, 

The  everlasting  gates  again 
Roll  back,  and  lo  ! 4 royal  train— 

Prom  the  far  depth  of  light  once  more 
The  floods  of  glory  earthward  pour ; 

They  part  like  shower-drops  in  mid  air, 

But  ne’er  so  soft  fell  noon-tide  shower, 

Nor  evening  rainbow  gleam’d  so  fair 
To  weary  swains  in  parched  bower.  v 

Swiftly  and  straight  ea(ch  tongue  of  flame* 
Through  cloud  anfl  breeze  unwavering  came, 
And  darted  to  its  place  of  rest 
On  some  meek  brow,  of  Jesus  blest. 

Nor  fades  it  yet,  that  living  gleam. 

And  still  those  lambent  lightnings  stream  ; 
Where’er  the  Lord  is,  there  are  they ; 

I11  every  heart  that  gives  them  room, 

They  light  His  altar  every  day, 

Zeal  to  inflame,  and  vice  consume. 

Soft  as  the  plumes  of  Jesus’  Dove,. 

They  nurse  the  soul  to  heavenly  love ; 

The  struggling  spark  of  good  within, 

Just  smother’d  in  the  strife  of  sin, 

They  quicken  to  a timely  glow, 

The  pure  flame  spreading  high  and  low. 


* [“There  appeared  unto  them  cloven  tongues,  like  ; 
sol  fire,  and  it  sat  upon  each  of  them.'’  Jicts  ii.  3.J  ' 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  145 


t~ 


+ 


Said  I,  that  prayer  and  hope  were  o’er  ? 

Nay,  blessed  Spirit ! but  by  Th£e 
The  Church’s  prayer  finds  wings  to  soar, 

The  Church’s  hope  finds  eyes  to  see. 

Then,  fainting  soul,  arise  and  sing; 

Mount,  but  be  sober  on  the  wing  ; 

Mount  up,  for  heaven  is  won  by  prayer. 

Be  sober,  for  thou  art  not  there  ; 

Till  death  the  weary  spirit  free, 

Thy  God  hath  said,  ’Tis  good  for  thee 
To  walk  by  faith  and  not^by  sight  : 

Take  it  on  trust  a little  while  ; 

Soon  shalt  thou  read  the  mystery  right 
In  the  full  sunshine  of  His  smile. 

Or  if  thou  yet  more  knowledge  crave, 

Ask  thine  own  heart,  that  willing  slave 
To  all  that  works  thee  wo  or  harm  : 

Should’st  thou  not  need  some  mighty  charm 
To  win  thee  to  thy  Saviour’s  side, 

Though  he  had  deign'd  with  thee  to  bide? 

The  Spirit  must  stir  the  darkling  deep, 

The  Dove  must  settle  on  the  cross, 

Else  we  should  all  sin  on  or  sleep 

With  Christ  in  sight,  turning  our  gain  to  loss. 


10 


s'  l46  FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


» 

FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 


And  the  Lord  was  very  angry  with  Aaron  to  have 
destroyed  him  : and  1 prayed  for  Aaron  also  the  same 
time.  Deal.  ix.  20. 

[O  Lord,  from  whom  all  good  things  do  come  ; grant 
to  us,  thy  humble  servants,  that  by  thy  holy  inspiration 
we  may  think  those  things  that  are  good,  and  by  thy 
merciful  guiding  may  perform  the  same,  through  our 
Lord  Jesus  Christ.  Amen.] 

Now  is  there  solemn  pause  in  earth  and  heaven; 


And  angels  wonder  why  he  stays  below: 
Yet  hath  not  man  4ris  lesson  learn’d, 
How  endless  love  should  be  return’d. 

Deep  is  the  silence,  as  of  summer  noon,t 


A gracious  rain,  freshening  the  weury  bower — 


* [ Rogation  Sunday  is  that  which  next  .precedes 
Ascension  Day.  The  three  intervening  days,  Monday, 
Tuesday,  and  Wednesday,  are  Called  Rogation  days, 
from  a Latin  word  signifying  to  beseech,  because  for 
those  days  extraordinary  prayers  were  provided,  espe- 


exemption  from  war  and  pest  ilence.  They  retain  their 
place  in  the  calendar  of  the  Church  of  England.] 


t [“When  the  air  is  still,  and  the  smoke  ascends  in 
tall  columns  without  blending  much  with  the  air,  it  is 
a sign  of  rain.”  Mudie's  Contemplation  of  Nature , 


4'' 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER.  147 


O sweetly  then  far  off  is  heard  , 

The  clear  note  of  some  lonely  bird. 

| So  let  thy  turtle  dove’s  sad  call  arise 
In  doubt  and  fear 
Through  darkening  skies, 

> And  pierce,  O Lord,  thy  justly  sealed  ear, 
Where  on  the  house  top,*  all  night  long, 
She  trills  her  widow’d,  faltering  song. 

> Teach  her  to  know  and  love  her  hour  of  prayer, 
And  evermore, 

As  faith  grows  rare, 

J Unlock  her  heart,  and  offer  all  its  store 
In  holier  love  and  humbler  vows, 

As  suits  a lost  returning  spouse. 

> Not  as  at  first, t but  with  intenser  cry, 

Upon  the  mount 
She  now  must  lie, 

> Till  thy  dear  love  to  blot  the  sad  account 
Of  her  rebellious  race  be  won, 

Pitying  the  mother  in  the  son. 

! But  chiefly  (for  site  knows  thee  anger’d  worst 
By  holiest  things 
Profaned  and  curst), 

\ Chiefly  for  Aaron’s  seed  she  spreads  her  wings, 
If  but  one  leaf  she  may  from  The'e 
Win  of  the  reconciling  tree. 

[ For  what  shall  heal,  when  holy  water  banes  ? 
Or  who  may  guide 
O’er  desert  plains 
\ Thy  loved  yet  sinful  people,  wandering  wide, 


* Psalm  cii.  7.  £ 

f Deut.  ix.  23.  I fell  down  before  the  Lord  forty  s 
! days  and  forty  nights,  as  I fell  down  at  the  first. 


j 148  FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  EASTER. 

If  Aaron’s  hand  unshrinking  mould* 

An  idol  form  of  earthly  gold  ? 

| Therefore  her  tears  are  bitter,  &nd  as  deep 
Her  boding  sigh, 

As,  while  men  sleep, 

! Sad-hearted  mothers  heave,  that  wakeful  lie, 

To  muse  upon  some  darling  child 
Roaming  in  youth’s  uncertain  wild. 

> Therefore  on  fearful  dreams  her  inward  sight 
' Is  fain  to  dwell — 

What  lurid  light 

| Shall  the  last  darkness  of  the  world  dispel, 

The  Mediator  in  his  wrath 
Descending  down  the  lightning’s  path. 

; Yet,  yet  awhile,  offended  Saviour,  pause, 

In  act  to  breakt 
Thine  outraged  laws, 

I O spare  thy  rebels  for  thine  own  dear  sake  ; 
Withdraw  thine  hand,  nor  dash  to  earth 
The  covenant  of  our  second  birth. 

’Tis  forfeit  like  the  first— we  own  it  all — 

Yet  for  love’s  sake, 

Let  it  not  fall ; 

But  at  thy  touch  let  veiled  hearts  awake, 

That  nearest  to  thine  altar  lie, 

Yet  least  of  holy  things  descry. 

^ Teacher  of  teachers  ! Priest  of  priests ! from  Thee  | 
s The  sweet  strong  prayer 

< Must  rise,  to  free 

j First  Levi,  then  all  Israel,  from  the  snare. 

( Thou  art  our  Moses  out  of  sight— 
j Speak  for  us,  or  we  perish  quite. 


* Exodus  xxxii.  4. 


t Exodus  xxxii.  19. 


ASCENSION  DAY. 


149  \ 


ASCENSION  DAY.* 

Why  stand  ye  gazine  up  into  heaven  1 This  same  ^ 
| Jesus,  which  is  taken  up  from  you  into  heaven,  shall  so  [ 
? come  in  like  manner  as  ye  have  seen  Him  go  into  $ 
) heaven. — Acts  i.  II.  [ Scripture  appointed  as  the  < 
) Epistle  for  the  Day.] 

[Grant,  we  beseech  thee,  Almighty  God,  that  like  as  ' 

! we  do  believe  thy  only  begotten  Son  our  Lord  Jesus  ( 
< Christ  to  have  ascended  into  the  heavens  ; so  we  may  5 

> also  in  heart  and  mind  thither  ascend,  and  with  him  < 
£ continually  dwell,  who  liveth  and  reigneth  with  thee  ? 
? and  the  Holy  Ghost,  one  God,  world  without  end.  < 

> Amen.] 

Soft  cloud,  that,  while  the  breeze  of  May 
j Chants  her  glad  matins  in  the  leafy  arch, 

Draw’st  thy  bright  veil  across  the  heavenly  | 
way, 

\ Meet  pavement  for  an  angel’s  glorious  march 

My  soul  is  envious  of  mine  eye, 

£ That  it  should  soar  and  glide  with  thee  so  fast, 


* [The  fortieth  day  from  Easter  Sunday,  which  is  \ 
> always  Thursday,  is  celebrated  in  commemoration  of  \ 
j the  ascension  of  our  Lord  into  heaven.] 
t [c  l o u d s . 

“ Cloud  land  ! Gorgeous  land  !” 

Coleridge. 

I cannot  look  above  and  see 
Yon  high-piled  pillowy  mass 
Of  evening  clouds,  so  swimmingly 
In  gold  and  purple  pass, 

And  think  not.  Lord,  how  thou  wast  seen 
On  Israel’s  desert  way 
Before  them,  in  thy  shadowy  screen, 

Pavilion’d  all  the  day  ! 


) 


ASCENSION  DAY. 


while  my  grovelling  thoughts  half-buried 
lie. 


i roam  around  this  earthly  waste. 


hains  of  my  heart,  avaunt,  I say— 
arise,  and  in  the  strength  of  love 
sue  the  bright  track  ere  it  fade  away, 
iviour’s  pathway  to  his  home  above. 

ire,  when  I reach  the  point  where  earth 
into  nothing  from  th’  uncumbered  sight, 


Or  of  those  robes  of  gorgeous  hue, 
Which  the  Redeemer  wore, 


When,  ravish’d  from  his  followers’  view, 
Aloft  his  flight  he  bore  ; 

When,  lifted  as  on  mighty  wing, 

He  curtain’d  his  ascent, 

And,  wrapt  in  clouds,  went  triumphing 
Above  the  firmament. 

Is  it  a trail  of  that  same  pall 
Of  many-colour’d  dyes, 

That  high  above,  o’ermantling  all. 

Hangs  midway  down  the  skies — 

Or  borders  of  those  sweeping  folds 
Which  shall  be  all  unfurl’d 
About  the  Saviour,  when  he  holds 
His  judgment  on  the  world? 

For  in  like  manner  as  he  went — 

My  soul,  hast  thou  forgot? — 

Shad  be  Ins  terrible  descent, 

When  man  expecteth  not ! 

Strength,  Son  of  man,  against  that  hour. 
Be  to  our  spirits  given, 

When  thou  shalt  come  again  with  power, 
Upon  the  clouds  of  heaven  ! 


Heaven  will  o’ercome  th’  attraction  of  my 
birth, 

> And  I shall  sink  in  yonder  sea  of  light  :* 

Till  resting  by  th’  incarnate  Lord, 

\ Once  bleeding,  now  triumphant  for  my  sake. 

1 mark  him,  how  by  seraph  hosts  adored 

> He  to  earth’s  lowest  cares  is  still  awake. 

The  sun  and  every  vassal  star, 

> All  space  beyond  the  soar  of  angel  wings, 

Wait  on  his  word  : and  yet  he  stays  his  car 

$ For  every  sigh  a contrite  suppliant  brings. 

He  listens  to  the  silent  tear 
l For  all  the  anthems  of  the  boundless  skyf — 

< And  shall  our  dreams  of  music  bar  our  ear 

< To  His  soul-piercing  voice  for  ever  nigh  ? 

^ Nay,  gracious  Saviour— but  as  now 
( Our  thoughts  have,  traced  thee  to  thy  glory-throne,  < 
So  help  us  evermore  with  thee  to  bow 

> Where  human  sorrow  breathes  her  lowly  moan. 

\ We  must  not  stand  to  gaze  too  long, 

5 Though  on  unfolding  heayeri  our  gaze  we  bend, 

^ Where,  lost  behind  the  bright  angelic  throng, 

< We  see  Christ’s  entering  triumph  slow  ascend. 

/ No  fear  but  we  shall  soon  behold, 

> Faster  than  now  it  fades,  that  gleam  revive, 


k [There  is  a point  in  space  where,  the  attraction  of  ) 

> the  earth  being  ^overcome,  a body  reaching  it  would  l 

> be  carried  opt  of  the  earth’s  orbit.  The  existence  of? 
£ such  a point,  in  reference  to  the  soul,  is  here  beauti-  \ 
' fully  suggested.] 

t [Notwithstanding  “ all  the  anthems  of  the  ] 
? boundless  sky.”] 


152 


SUNDAY  AFTER  ASCENSION. 


When,  issuing  from  his  cloud  of  fiery  gold, 

! Our  wasted  frames  feel  the  true  Sun,  and  live. 

Then  shall  we  see  thee  as  thou  art,* 

; For  ever  fix’d  in  no  unfruitful  gaze, 

; But  such  as  lifts  the  new-created  heart, 

; Age  after  age,  in  worthier  love  and  praise. 


[SUNDAY  AFTER  ASCENSION. 

, As  every  man  hath  received  the  gift,  even  so  minis- 
i ter  the  same  one  to  another,  as  good  stewards  of  the 
! manifold  grace  of  God. — 1 St.  Peter  iv.  10.  [Epistle 
£ for  the  Day. 

[O  God,  the  king  of  glory,  who  hast  exalted  thine 
\ only  Son  Jesus  Christ  with  great  triumph  unto  thy 

> kingdom  in  heaven ; we  beseech  thee  leave  us  not 
! comfortless ; but  send  to  us  thine  Holy  Ghost  to 
[ comfort  us,  and  exalt  us  unto  the  same  place  whither 
5 our  Saviour  Christ  is  gone  before  ; who  liveth  and 
; reigneth  with  thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  one  God, 

> world  without  end.  Amen.] 

The  earth,  that  in  her  genial  breast 
Makes  for  the  down  a kindly  nest, 

Where,  wafted  by  the  warm  south-west, 

It  floats  at  pleasure. 

Yields,  thankful,  of  her  very  best, 

To  nurse  her  treasure  : 

True  to  her  trust,  tree,  herb,  or  reed. 

She  renders  for  each  scatter’d  seed, 

And  to  her  Lord  with  duteous  heed 
Gives  large  increase : 


* 1“  When  he  shall  appear,  we  shall  be  like  him, 
^for  we  shall  seejnm  a.s  he  is.’^ 


SUNDAY  AFTER  ASCENSION.  153 


Thus  year  by  year  she  works  unfeed, 
And  will  not  cease. 

Wo  worth  these  barren  hearts  of  ours, 
Where  thou  hast  set  celestial  flowers, 
And  water’d  with  more  bahny  showers 
Than  e'er  distill’d 

In  Eden,  on  th’  ambrosial  bowers— 
Yet  naught  we  yield. 

Largely  Thou  givest,  gracious  Lord, 
Largely  thy  gifts  should  be  restored  ; 
Freely  Thou  givest,  and  thy  word 
Is,  “ freely  give:”* 

He  only,  who  forgets  to  hoard, 

Has  learn’d  to  live. 

Wisely  Thou  givest— all  around 
Thine  equ^l  rays  are  resting  found, 
Yet  varying  so  on  various  ground 
They  pierce  and  strike, 

That  not  two  roseate  cups  are  crown’d 
With  dew  alike  : 

Even  so,  in  silence,  likest  Thee, 

Steals  on  soft-handed  Charity, 
Tempering  her  gifts,  that  seem  so  free, 
By  time  and  place. 

Till  not  a wo  the  bleak  world  see, 

But  finds  her  grace  : 

Eyes  to  the  blind,  and  to  the  lame 
Feet,  and  to  sinners  wholesome  blame, 
To  starving  bodies  food  and  flame 
By  turns  she  brings ; 

To  humbled  souls,  that  sink  for  shame, 
Lends  heavenward  wings; 


* St.  Matt.  x.  8. 


154 


SUNDAY  AFTER  ASCENSION. 


' l oads  them  the  way  our  Saviour  went, 

? And  shows  love’s  treasure  yet  unspent ; 

<>  As  when  th’  unclouded  heavens  were  rent, 

> Opening  his  road, 

l Nor  yet  his  Holy  Spirit  sent 
\ To  our  abode. 

i Ten  days  th’  eternal  doors  display’d* 

? Were  wondering  (so  th’  Almighty  bade) 

> Whom  love  enthroned  would  send,  in  aid 

) Of  souls  that  mourn, 

> Left  orphans  in  earth’s  dreary  shade 

l As  soon  as  born. 


- 

* £S 

4~ 


Open  they  stand,  that  prayers  in  throngs 
May  rise  on  high,  and  holy  songs, 

Such  incense  as  of  right  belongs 
To  the  true  shrine, 

Where  stands  the  healer  of  all  wrongs 
In  light  divine  ; 

The  golden  censer  in  his  hand, 

He  offers  hearts  from  every  land, 

Tied  to  his  own  by  gentlest  band 
Of  silent  love: 

About  Him  winged  blessings  stand 
In  act  to  move. 

A little  while,  and  they  shall  fleet 
From  heaven  to  earth,  attendants  meet 
On  the  life-giving  Paraclete, 

Speeding  his  flight, 

With  all  that  sacred  is  and  sweet, 

On  saints  to  light. 


* [Ten  days  intervened  between  the  ascension  of  the 
aviour  and  the  descent  of  the  Comforter.] 


:: 

1 


WHITSUNDAY. 


155 


Apostles,  prophets,  pastors,  all 
Shall  feel  the  shower  of  mercy  fall, 
And,  starting  at  th’  Almighty’s  call, 
Give  what  He  gave, 

Till  their  high  deeds  the  world  appal, 
And  sinners  save. 


of  a rushing  mighty  wind,  and  it  filled  all  the  house  , 
where  they  were  sitting;  and  there  appeared  unto  ( 
them  cloven  tongues,  like  as  of  fire,  and  it  sat  upon  > 
each  of  them  ; and  they  were  all  filled  with  the  Holy  s 
Ghost.  Acts  ii.  2,  3.  [Scripture  fur  the  Epistle.]  ? 


ICO  God,  who  as  at  this  time  didst  teach  the  hearts  of 
thy  faithful  people,  by  sending  to  them  the  light  of  thy 
Holy  Spirit;  grant  us  by  the  same  Spirit  to  have  a right 
judgment  in  all  things,  and  evermore  to  rejoice  in  his 
holy  comfort,  through  the  merits  of  Christ  Jesus  our 
Saviour,  who  hveth  and  reigneth  with  thee,  in  the 
( unity  of  the  same  Spirit,  one  God,  world  without  end. 

5 Amen. J 

l When  God  of  old  came  down  from  heaven, 

In  power  and  wrath  He  came; 

) Before  his  feet  the  clouds  were  riven, 

> Half  darkness  and  half  flame: 


5 * [This  festival  is  designed  to  commemorate  the 

l descent  of  the  Holy  Gnost  on  the  Apostles  in  the 

> shape  of  cloven  fiery  tongues.  It  took  place  on  the 
l Jewish  feast  of  Pentecost,  the  anniversary  of  the 
r giving  of  the  law  at  Mourn  Sinai.  The  practice  in  the 

> primitive  church  of  receiving  catechumens  generally 
' to  baptism  on  this  day,  clad  in  white  robes,  probably 

> gave  occasion  to  its  name  of  white,  or,  by  contraction, 
s IV hit? unday. 


WHIT  SUNDAY.* 


£ And  suddenly  there  came  a sound  from  heaven,  as 


; 156 


WHITSUNDAY. 


~+ 


Around  the  trembling  mountain’s  base 
The  prostrate  people  lay ; 

A day  of  wrath  and  not  of  grace; 

A dim  and  dreadful  day. 

But  when  lie  came  the  second  time, 

He  came  in  power  and  love, 

Softer  than  gale  at  morning  prime 
Hover’d  his  holy  Dove. 

The  fires  that  rush’d  on  Sinai  down 
In  sudden  torrents  dread, 

Now  gently  light,  a glorious  crown, 

On  every  sainted  head. 

Like  arrows  went  those  lightnings  forth, 
Wing’d  with  the  sinner’s  doom  ; 

But  these,  like  tongues,  o’er  all  the  earth 
Proclaiming  life  to  come  : 

And  as  on  Israel’s  awe-struck  ear 
The  voice  exceeding  loud, 

The  trump  that  angels  quake  to  hear, 
Thrill'd  from  the  deep,  dark  cloud, 

So,  when  the  Spirit  of  our  God 
Came  down  his  flock  to  find, 

A voice  from  heaven  was  heard  abroad, 
A rushing,  mighty  wind. 

Nor  doth  the  outward  ear  alone 
At  that  high  warning  start ; 

Conscience  gives  back  th’  appalling  tone; 
’Tis  echoed  in  the  heart. 

It  fills  the  Church  of  God  ; it  fills 
The  sinful  world  around  ; 

Only  in  stubborn  hearts  and  wills 
No  place  for  it  is  found. 


MONDAY  IN  WHITSUN-WEEK. 


157  ; 


To  other  strains  our  souls  are  set  : 

A giddy  whirl  of  sin 
Fills  ear  and  brain,  and  will  not  let 
Heaven’s  harmouies  come  in. 

Come,  Lord,  come,  Wisdom,  Love  and  Power, 
Open  our  ears  to  hear  ; 

Let  us  not  miss  th’  accepted  hour ; 

Save,  Lord,  by  love  or  fear. 


MONDAY  IN  WHITSUN- WEEK. 


THE  CITY  OF  CONFUSION. 

So  the  Lord  scattered  them  abroad  from  thence  upon 
the  face  of  all  the  earth  : and  they  left  otf  to  build  the 
city.  Genesis  xi.  8.  [ First  Morning  Lesson .] 

[O  God,  who  as  at  this  time  didst  teach  the  hearts  of  £ 
thy  faithful  people,  by  sending  to  them  the  light  of  thy  > 
Holy  Spirit  : grant  us  by  the  same  Spirit  to  have  a s 
right  judgment  in  all  things,  and  evermore  to  rejoice  in  ? 
his  holy  comfort,  through  the  merits  of  Christ  Jesus  S 
our  Saviour,  who  liveth  and  reigneth  with  thee,  in  the  c 
unity  of  the  same  Spirit,  one  God,  world  without  end.  ) 
Amen.] 

Since  all  that  is  not  heaven  must  fade, 

Light  be  the  hand  of  ruin  laid 
Upon  th&  home  I love  : 

With  lulling  spell  let.  soft  decay 
Steal  on,  and  spare  the  giant  sway, 

The  crash  of  tower  and  grove. 

Far  opening  down  some  woodland  deep, 

In  their  own  quiet  glade  should  sleep 
] The  relics  dear  to  thought, 


158 


— ^ 


MONDAY  IN  WHITSUN-WEEK. 


And  wild-flower  wreaths  from  side  to  side 
Their  waving  tracery  hang,  to  hide 
What  ruthless  time  has  wrought. 

Such  are  the  visions  green  and  sweet 
That  o’er  the  wistful  fancy  fleet 
In  Asia’s  sea-like  plain, 

Where  slowly,  round  his  isles  of  sand, 
Euphrates  through  the  lonely  land 
Winds  toward  the  pearly  main. 

Slumber  is  there,  but  not  of  rest; 

There  her  forlorn  and  weary  nest 
The  famish’d  hawk  has  found, 

The  wild  dog  howls  at  fall  of  night, 

The  serpent’s  rustling  coils  affright 
The  traveller  on  his  round. 

What  shapeless  form,  half-lost  on  high,* 
Half-seen  against  the  evening  sky, 

Seems  like  a ghost  to  glide, 

And  watch  from  Babel’s  crumbling  heap, 
Where  in  her  shadow,  fast  asleep, 

Lies  fallen  imperial  pride? 

With  half-closed  eye  a lion  there 
Is  basking  in  his  noontide  lair, 

Or  prowls  in  twilight  gloom  ; 


* See  Sir  R.  K.  Porter’s  Travels,  ii.  387.  “In  m>  < 
) second  visit  to  Rirs  Nimrood,  my  party  suddenly  halted,  / 
£ having  descried  several  dark  objects  moving  along  the  > 
) summit  of  its  hill,  which  they  construed  into  dismounted  ( 
^ Arabs  on  the  look-out : 1 took  out  my  glass  to  examine, 
and  soon  distinguished  that  the  causes  of  our  alarm  | 
) were  two  or  three  majestic  lions,  taking  the  air  upon  the  £ 
\ heights  of  the  pyramid.”  ' 


MONDAY  IN  WHITSUN-WEEK. 

The  golden  city’s  king  he  seems, 

Such  as  in  old  prophetic  dreams* 

Sprang  from  rough  ocean’s  womb. 

But  where  are  now  his  eaule  wings, 
That  shelter’d  erst  a thousand  kings, 
Hiding  the  glorious  sky 
From  half  the  nations,  till  they  own 
No  holier  name,  no  mightier  throne  ? 
That  vision  is  gone  by. 

Quench’d  is  the  golden  statue’s  ray.f 
The  breath  6f  heaven  has  blown  away 
What  toiling  earth  had  piled, 
Scattering  wise  heart  and  crafty  hand. 
As  breezes  strew  on  ocean’s  sand 
The  fabrics  of  a child. 

Divided  thence  through  every  age. 

Thy  rebels.  Lord,  their  warfare  wage, 
And  hoarse  and  jarring  all 
Mount  up  their  heaven-assailing  cries 
To  thy  bright  watchmen  in  the  skies, 
From  Babel’s  shatter’d  wall. 

Thrice  only  since,  with  blended  might* 
The  nations  on  that  haughty  height 
Have  met  to  scale  the  heaven  ; 
Thrice  only  might  a seraph’s  look 
A moment’s  shade  of  sadness  brook — 
Such  power  to  guilt  was  given. 


159  f 


J four 
( and 
> kin^ 


Daniel  vii.  4. 

Daniel  ii.  and  iii. 

['I'be  allusions  throughout  this  piece  arc  to  the  ) 
universal  empires  predicted  in  the  book  of  Daniel.  I 
to  the  establishment  of  Christ’s  promised  spiritual  ; 
;dom  on  the  ruins  of  them  all.  The  sentiment  of  $ 
last  three  lines  is  truly  sublime.] 


\ 160 


MONDAY  IN  WHITSUN-WEEK. 


Now  the  fierce  bear  and  leopard  keen* 

Are  perish’d  as  they  ne’er  had  been, 
Oblivion  is  their  home  ; 

Ambition’s  boldest  dream  and  last 
Must  melt  before  the  clarion  blast 
That  sounds  the  dirge  of  Rome 

Heroes  and  kings,  obey  the  charm, 
Withdraw  the  proud  high  reaching  arm! 

There  is  an  oath  on  high, 

That  ne’er  on  brow  of  mortal  birth 
Shall  blend  again  the  crowns  of  earth, 

Nor  in  according  cry 

Her  many  voices  mingling  own 
One  tyrant  lord,  one  idol  throne  : 

But  to  His  triumph  soon 
He  shall  descend,  who  rules  above, 

And  the  pure  language  of  His  lovef 
All  tongues  of  men  shall  tune. 

Nor  let  ambition  heartless  mourn  ; 

When  Babel’s  very  ruins  burn, 

Her  hisrh  desires  may  hreathe  : — 
O’ercome  thyself,  and  thou  m ay ’st  share 
With  Christ  his  Father’s  throne, | and  wear 
The  World’s  imperial  wreath. 


* Daniel  vii.  5, 6. 
t Zephaniah  iii.  9.  “ Then  will  I turn  to  the  people  l 
a pure  language,  that  they  may  all  call  upon  the  name  ? 
of  the  Lord,  to  serve  him  with  one  consent.” 

+ Revelation  iii.  21.  “ To  him  that  overcometh  will  £ 
I grant  to  sit  with  me  in  my  throne.” 


HK 


TUESDAY  IN  WHITSUN-WEEK. 


161  ; 


TUESDAY  nr  WHITSTOT-WEEK. 

HOLY  ORDERS. 

, When  He  putteth  forth  his  own  sheep,  He  goeth  j 

> before  them.— St.  John  x.  [Gospel  for  tke  Day.}  < 

[O  God,  who  as  at  this  time  didst  teach  the  hearts  < 
\ of  thy  faithful  people,  by  sending  to  them  the  light  of  / 
t thy  Holy  Spirit;  grant  us  by  the  same  Spirit  to  have  a ( 
S right  judgment  in  all  things,  and  evermore  to  rejoice  < 

> in  his  holy  comfort,  through  the  merits  of  Jesus  Christ  > 
our  Saviour,  who  hveth  and  reigneth  with  thee,  in  the  < 

! unity  Of  the  same  Spirit,  one  God,  world  without  end.  j 
l Amen.} 


(Addressed -to  Candidates  for  Ordination.) 

“ Lord,  in  thy  field  I work  all  day, 

I read,  I teach,  I warn,  I pray, 

And  yet  these  wilful  wandering  sheep 
Within  thy  fold  I cannot  keep. 

I journey,  yet  no  step  is  won — 

Alas  ! the  weary  course  I run  ; 

Like  sailors  shipwrecked  in  their  dreams, 
All  powerless  and  benighted  seems.” 

What ! wearied  out  with  half  a life  ? 
Scared  with  this  smooth  unbloody  strife  ? 
Think  where  thy  coward  hopes  had  flown 
Had  Heaven  held  out  the  martyr’s  crown. 

How  could’st  thou  hang  upon  the  cross, 

To  whom  a weary  hour  is  Joss  ? 

Or  how  the  thorns  and  scourging  brook, 
Who  shrinkest  from  a scornful  look  ? 


11 


162 


TUESDAY  IN  WHITSUN- WEEK. 


Yet  ere  thy  craven  spirit  faints, 

Hear  thine  owh  King,  the  King  of  saints  ; 
Though  thou  wert  toiling  in  the  grave, 

-Tis  He  can  cheer  thee.  He  can  save. 

He  is  th’  eternal  mirror  bright, 

Where  angels  view  the  Father’s  light, 

And  yet  in  Him  the  simplest  swain 
May  read  his  homely  lesson  plain. 

Early  to  quit  his  home  on  earth, 

And  claim  his  high  celestial  birth, 

Alone  with  his  true  Father  found* * * § 

Within  the  temple’s  solemn  round;—  ^ 

Yet  in  meek  duty  to  abide 

For  many  a year  at  Mary’s  side,f 

Nor  heed,  though  restless  spirits  ask, 

“ What ! hath  the  Christ  forgot  his  task?” — | 

Conscious  of  deity  within, 

To  bow  before  an  heir  of  sin, 

With  folded  arms  on  humble  breast, 

By  his  own  servant  washed  and  blfest 

Then  full  of  Heaven,  the  mystic  Dove 
Hovering  his  gracious  brow  above. 

To  shun  the  voice  and  eye  of  praise, 

And  in  the  wild  his  trophies  raise— § 

* [“  Wist  ye  not  that  I must  be  about  my  Father’s  $ 
! business?”] 

t [“And  he  went  down  with  them,  and  came  to  Na- 

> zareth,  and  was  subject  unto  them  : but  his  mother  < 

> kept  all  these  sayings  in  her  heart.” 

j [John  the  Baptist,  by  whom  Jesus  was  baptized.]  > 

§ [From  his  baptism,  Jesus  went  up  into  the  wil-  ) 
| derness,  where  he  was  tempted.]  { 


TUESDAY  IN  WHITSUN-WEEK. 


163  5 


With  hymns  of  angels  in  his  ears, 

Back  to  his  task  of  wo  and  tears  ; 
Unmurmuring  through  the  world  to  roam, 
With  not  a wish  or  thought  at  home ; 

All  hut  himself  to  heal  and  save, 

Till,  ripen’d  for  the  cross  and  grave, 

He  to  his  Father  gently  yield 

The  breath  that  our  redemption  seal’d— 

Then  to  unearthly  life  arise, 

Yet  not  at  once  to  seek  the  skies, 

But  glide  awhile  from  saint  to  saint, 

Lest  on  our  lonely  way  we  faint ; 

And  through  the  cloud  by  glimpses  show 
How  bright,  in  heaven,  the  marks  will  glow 
Of  the  true  cross,  imprinted  deep 
Both  on  the  Shepherd  and  the  sheep — 

When  out  of  sight,  in  heart  and  prayer 
Thy  chosen  people  still  to  bear, 

And  from  behind  thy  glorious  veil, 

Shed  light  that  cannot  change  or  fail — 

This  is  thy  pastoral  course,  O Lord, 

Till  we  be  saved,  and  Thou  adored : 

Thy  course  and  ours— but  who  are  they 
Who  follow  on  the  narrow  way  ? 

And  yet  of  Thee  from  year  to  year 
The  Church’s  solemn  chant  we  hear, 

As  from  thy  cradle  to  thy  throne 
She  swells  her  high  heart-cheering  tone. 

Listen,  ye  pure  white-robed  souls, 

W'hom  in  her  list  she  now  enrols, 

And  gird  ye  for  your  high  emprize 
By  these  her  thrilling  minstrelsies. 


And  whereso'er,  in  earth’s  wide  field, 
Ye  lift,  for  Him,  the  red-cross  shield, 

Be  this  your  song,  your  joy  and  pride— 
“ Our  Champion  went  before  and  died.’1 


TRINITY  SUNDAY.* 


If  I have  told  you  earthly  things,  and  ye  believe  not,  / 
S how  shall  ye  believe  if  I tell  you  of  heavenly  things  ? $ 
\ St.  John  iii.  12. 

[Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who  hast  given  unto  1 
s us,  thy  servants,  grace,  by  the  confession  of  a true  l 
? faith,  to  acknowledge  the  glory  of  the  eternal  Trinity,  ( 
5 and  in  the  power  of  the  divine  Majesty  to  worship  the  > 

< Unity;  we  beseech  thee  that  wouldst  keep  us  steadfast  < 
1 in  this  faiih,  and  evermore  defend  us  from  all  adversi-  > 

< ties,  who  livest  and  reignest,  one  God,  world  without  s 
\ end.  Amen.] 

Creator,  Saviour,  strengthening  Guide, 

Now  on  Thy  mercy’s  ocean  wide 
Far  out  of  sight  we  seem  to  glide. 

Help  us,  each  hour,  with  steadier  eye 
To  search  the  deepening  mystery. 

The  wonders  of  Thy  sea  and  sky. 

The  blessed  angels  look  and  long 
To  praise  Thee  with  a worthier  song, 

And  yet  our  silence  does  Thee  wrong. 

Along  the  Church’s  central  space 
The  sacred  weeks  with  unfelt  pace 
Have  borne  us  on  from  grace  to  grace. 


b [The  festival  which  commemorates  the  mysterious  $ 
? doctrine  of  the  Trinity  in  unity.] 


TRINITY  SUNDAY. 


165  < 


As  travellers  on  some  woodland  height, 
When  wintry  suns  are  gleaming  bright, 
Lose  in  arch’d  glades  their  tangled  sight ; — 

By  glimpses  such  as  dreamers  love 
Through  her  gray  veil  the  leafless  grove 
Shows  where  the  distant  shadows  rove  ; — 

Such  trembling  joy  the  soul  o’er-awes 
As  nearer  to  thy  shrine  she  draws: 

And  now  before  the  choir  we  pause. 

The  door  is  closed— but  soft  and  deep 
Around  the  awful  arches  sweep 
Such  airs  as  soothe  a hermit’s  sleep. 

From  each  carved  nook  and  fretted  bend 

Cornice  and  gallery  seem  to  send 

Tones  that  with  seraph  hymns  might  blend. 

Three  solemn  parts  together  twine 
In  harmony’s  mysterious  line  ; 

Three  solemn  aisles  approach  the  shrine  : 

Yet  all  are  one— together  all, 

In  thoughts  that  awe  but  not  appal, 

Teach  the  adoring  heart  to  fall. 

Within  these  walls  each  fluttering  guest 
Is  gently  lured  to  one  safe  nest— 

Without,  ’tis  moaning  and  unrest. 

The  busy  world  a thousand  ways 
Is  hurrying  by,  nor  ever  stays 
To  catch  a note  of  Thy  dear  praise. 

Why  tarries  not  her  chariot  wheel, 

That  o’er  her  with  no  vain  appeal 
One  gust  of  heavenly  song  might  steal  ? 


+-~'~ — '+ 

j 166  TKINJTY  SUNDAY.  j 


> Alas!  for  her  Thy  opening  flowers 

> Unheeded  breathe  to  summer  showers, 

> Unheard  the  music  of  Thy  bowers. 

$ What  echoes  from  the  sacred  dome 
The  selfish  spirit  may  o’ercome 
That  Will  not  hear  of  love  or  home  ? 

The  heart  that  scorn’d  a father’s  care, 
How  can  it  rise  in  filial  prayer? 

How  an  all-seeing  guardian  bear? 

Or  how  shall  envious  brethren  own 
A brother  on  th’  eternal  throne, 

Their  Father’s  joy,  their  hope  alone  ? 

How  shall  thy  Spirit's  gracious  wile 
The  sullen  brow  of  gloom  beguile, 

That  frowns  on  sweet  affection’s  smile  ? 

Eternal  One,  Almighty  Trine  ! 

(Since  Thou  art  ours,  and  we  are  thine) 
By  all  thy  love  did  once  resign, 


i 


By  all  the  grace  thy  heavens  still  hide, 
We  pray  Thee,  keep  us  at  thy  side, 
Creator,  Saviour,  strengthening  Guide  ! 


FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  167 


FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


> ISRAEL  AMONG  THE  RUINS  OF  CANAAN. 

\ So  Joshua  smote  all  the  country,  and  all  their  kings;  j 

< he  left  none  remaining. — Joshua  40.  [ First  Morn- 
? ing  Lesson .} 

y [O  God,  the  strength  of  all  those  who  put  their  trust  | 
sin  thee,  mercifully  accept  our  prayers;  and  because,? 
£ through  the  weakness  of  our  mortal  nature,  we  can  do  5 

> no  good  thing  without  thee,  grant  us  the  help  of  thy  ' 

< grace,  that  in  keeping  thy  commandments  we  may  > 
? please  thee,  both  in  will  and  deed,  through  Jesus  s 
$ Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Where  is  the  land  with  milk  and  honey  flowing, 
The  promise  of  our  God,  our  fancy’s  theme? 

I Here,  over  shattered  walls  dank  weeds  are  grow-  $ 

ing. 

And  blood  and  fire  have  run  in  mingled  stream;  ? 
Like  oaks  and  cedars  all  around 
The  giant  corses  strew  the  ground, 

<;  And  haughty  Jericho’s  cloud-piercing  wall 

> Lies  where  it  sank  at  Joshua’s  trumpet-call. 

? These  are  not  scenes  for  pastoral  dance  at  even, 

> For  moonlight  rovings  in  the  fragrant  glades, 

; Soft  slumbers  in  the  open  eye  of  heaven, 

And  all  the  listless  joy  of  summer  shades. 

We  in  the  midst  of  ruins  live, 

Which  every  hour  dread  warning  give, 

^ Nor  may  our  household  vine  or  fig  tree  hide 
( The  broken  arches  of  old  Canaan’s  pride. 

{ Where  is  the  sweet  repose  of  hearts  repenting, 

The  deep  calm  sky,  the  sunshine  of  the  soul, 


•4 


168  FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

£ Now  heaven  and  earth  are  to  our  bliss  consenting, 
And  all  the  Godhead  joins  to  make  us  whole  ? 
The  triple  crown  of  mercy"  now 
Ts  ready  for  the  suppliant’s  brow, 
l By  the  Almighty  Three  for  ever  plann’d, 

\ And  from  behind  the  cloud  held  out  by  Jesus’ 
hand. 

‘ Now,  Christians,  hold  your  own— the  land  \ 
before  ye 

Is  open — win  your  way,  and  take  your  rest 
$ So  sounds  our  war-note ; but  our  path  of  glory 
By  many  a cloud  is  darken’d  and  unblest : 

And  daily  as  we  downward  glide, 

Life’s  ebbing  stream  on  either  side 
] Shows  at  each  turn  some  mouldering  hope  or  joy;  £ 
\ The  man  seems  following  still  the  funeral  of  the  \ 
boy. 

\ Open  our  eyes,  thou  Sun  of  life  and  gladness, 
j That  we  may  see  that  glorious  world  of  thine  ! 

| It  shines  for  us  in  vain,  while  drooping  sadness 
Enfolds  us  here  like  mist : come,  Power  benign, 
Touch  our  chill’d  hearts  with  vernal  smild^ 
Our  wintry  course  do  Thou  beguile, 
j Nor  by  the  wayside  ruins  let  us  mourn, 

\ Who  have  th’  eternal  towers  for  our  appointed 
bourne. 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  169 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AE  TER  TRINITY. 


CHARITY  the  life  of  faith. 

Marvel  not,  my  brethren,  if  the  world  hate  you.  We  \ 
> know  that  we  have  passed  from  death  unto  life,  be-  > 
l cause  we  love  the  brethren. — I St.  John  iii.  13,  14.  s 
£ [ Epistle  for  the  Day.]  ; 

[O  Lord,  who  never  failest  to  help  and  govern  those  > 
| whom  thou  dost  bring  up  in  thy  steadfast  fear  and  l 
? love  : keep  us,  we  beseech  thee,  under  the  protection  > 
£ of  thy  good  providence,  and  make  us  to  have  a per-  S 
l petual  fear  and  love  of  thy  holy  name,  through  Jesus  ] 
$ Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

The  clouds  that  wrap  the  setting  sun 
When  autumn’s  softest  gleams  are  ending, 
Where  all  bright  hues  together  run, 

In  sweet  confusion  blending: — 

Why,  as  we  watch  their  floating  wreath, 

Seem  they  the  breath  of  life  to  breathe? 

To  fancy’s  eye  their  motions  prove 
They  mantle  round  the  sun  for  love. 

When  up  some  woodland  dale  we  catch 
The  many-twihkling  smile*  of  ocean, 

Or  with  pleased  ear  bewilder’d  watch 
His  chime  of  restless  motion  ; 

Still  as  the  surging  waves  retire 
They  seem  to  gasp  with  strong  desire  ; 

Such  signs  of  love  old  ocean  gives, 

We  cannot  choose  but  think  he  lives. 


TtOVTLWV  ti  Kv/xarcov 

dvrjpiOfxov  yt\aapa iEschyl. 

< Prom.  89. 


; 170  SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

Would’st  thou  the  life  of  souls  discern  ? 

Nor  human  wisdom  nor  divine 
Helps  thee  by  aught  beside  to  learn  : 

Love  is  life’s, only  sign. 

The  spring  of  the  regenerate  heart, 

The  pulse,  the  glow  of  every  part, 

Is  the  true  love  of  Christ  our  Lord, 

As  man  embraced,  as  God  adored. 

But  he,  whose  heart  will  bound  to  mark 
The  full  bright  burst  of  summer  morn, 
Loves  too  each  little  dewy  spark 
By  leaf  or  floweret  worn  : 

Cheap  forms,  and  common  hues,  ’t is  true, 
Through  the  bright  shower^drop  meet  his  ] 
view ; 

The  colouring  may  be  of  this  earth  ; 

The  lustre  comes  of  heavenly  birth. 

Even  so,  who  loves  the  Lord  aright, 

No  soul  of  man  can  worthless  find ; 

All  will  be  precious  in  his  sight, 

Since  Christ  on  all  hath  shined: 

But  chiefly  Christian  souls;  for  they, 

Though  worn  and  soil’d  with  sinful  clay, 

Are  yet,  to  eyes  that  see  them  true, 

All  glistening  with  baptismal  dew. 

Then  marvel  not,  if  such  as  bask 
In  purest  light  of  innocence, 

Hope  against  hope,  in  love’s  dear  task, 

Spite  of  all  dark  offence. 

If  they  who  hate  the  trespass  most, 

Yet,  when  all  other  love  is  lost,' 

Love  the  poor  sinner,  marvel  not; 

Christ’s  mark  outwears  the  rankest  blot. 

No  distance  breaks  the  tie  of  blood ; 

Brothers  are  brothers  evermore  ; 


SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  171  5 


Nor  wrong,  nor  wrath  of  deadliest  mood, 
That  magic  may  o’erpower  ; 

Oft,  ere  the  common  source  be  known. 
The  kindred  drops  will  claim  their  own, 
And  throbbing  pulses  silently 
Move  lieart  towards  heart  by  sympathy. 

So  is  it  with  true  Christian  hearts ; 

Their  mutual  share  in  Jesus’  blood 
An  everlasting  bond  imparts 
Of  holiest  brotherhood: 

Oh  l might  we  all  our  lineage  prove, 

Give  and  forgive,  do  good  and  love, 

By  soft  endearments  in  kind  strife 
Lightening  the  load  of  daily  life  ! 

There  is  much  need  ; for  not  as  yet 
Are  we  in  shelter  or  repose, 

The  holy  house  is  still  beset 
With  leaguer  of  stern  foes ; 

Wild  thoughts  within,  bad  men  without, 
All  evil  spirits  round  about, 

Are  banded  in  unblest  device. 

To  spoil  love’s  earthly  paradise. 

Then  draw  we  nearer  day  by  day, 

Each  to  his  brethren,  all  to  God; 

Let  the  world  take  us  as  she  may, 

We  must  not  change  our  road  ; 

Not  wondering,  though  in  grief,  to  find 
The  martyr’s  foe  still  keep  her  mind ; 
But-fix’d  to  hold  Jove’s  banner  fast, 

And  by  submission  win  at  last. 


! 172  THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY'. 


1 


THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


COMFORT  FOR  SINNERS  IN  THE  PRESENCE 
OF  THE  GOOD. 

There  is  joy  in  the  presence  of  the  angels  of  God  j 
( over  one  sinner  thatrepenteth.  St.  Luke  xv.  10.  [Gos-  £ 
£ pel  for  the  Day.] 

I[0  Lord,  we  beseech  thee  mercifully  to  hear  us  : and  < 
grant  that  we,  to  whom  thou  hast  given  a hearly  desire  \ 
to  pray,  may,  by  thy  mighty  aid,  be  defended  and 
comforted  in  ali  dangers  and  adversities,  through  Jesus  | 
Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

O hateful  spell  of  sin  ! when  friends  are  nigh, 

To  make  stern  memory  tell  her  tale  unsought, 
And  raise  accusing  shades  of  hours  gone  by. 

To  come  between  us  and  all  kindly  thought ! 

Chill’d  at  her  touch,  the  self-reproaching  soul 
Flies  from  the  heart  and  home  she  dearest  loves  $ 
To  where  lone  mountains  tower,  or  billows  roll, 

Or  to  your  endless  depth,  ye  solemn  groves. 

In  vain  ; the  averted  cheek  in  loneliest  dell 
Is  conscious  of  a gaze  it  cannot  bear ; 

The  leaves  that  rustle  near  us  seem  to  tell 
Our  heart’s  sad  secret  to  the  silent  air. 

Nor  is  the  dream  untrue  ; for  all  around 
The  heavens  are  watching  with  their  thousand  \ 

\ eyes, 

| We  cannot  pass  our  guardian  angel’s  bound, 
s Resign’d  or  sullen,  he  will  hear  our  sighs.  t 

\ He  in  the  mazes  of  the  budding  wood  l 

^ Is  near,  and  mourns  to  see  our  thankless  glance^ 


THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  173  > 


l Dwell  coldly,  where  the  fresh  green  earth  is  < 
strew’d  , 

With  the  first  flowers  that  lead  the  vernal  dance.  ! 

| In  wasteful  bounty  shower’d,  they  smile  unseen, 
j Unseen  by  man — but  what  if  purer  sprites 
; By  moonlight  o’er  their  dewy  bosoms  lean 
T’  adore  the  Father  of  all  gentle  lights  ? 

! If  such  there  be,  oh,  grief  and  shame  to  think 
That  sight  of  thee  should  overcloud  their  joy, 

! A new-born  soul,  just  waiting  on  the  brink 
Of  endless  life,  yet  wrapt  in  earth’s  annoy  ! 

! Oh  turn,  and  be  thou  turn’d ! the  selfish  tear, 

In  bitter  thoughts  of  low-born  care  begun, 

; Let  it  flow  on,  but  flow  refined  and  clear, 

The  turbid  waters  brightening  as  they  run. 

> Let  it  flow  on,  till  all  thine  earthly  heart 

In  penitential  drops  have  ebb’d  away, 

[ Then  fearless  turn  where  heaven  hath  set  thy  part, 
Nor  shudder  at  the  eye  that  saw  thee  stray. 

> Oh  lost  and  found ! all  gentle  souls  below 

Their  dearest  welcome  shall  prepare,  and  prove 
\ Such  joy  o’er  thee,  as  raptured  seraphs  know, 
Who  learn  their  lesson  at  the  throne  of  love 


! 174  FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


\ FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


THE  GROANS  OF  NATURE. 

' For  the  earnest  expectation  of  the  creature  waiteth  < 
) for  the  manifestation  of  the  sons  of  God  : for  the  < 
s creature  was  made  subject  to  vanity,  not  willingly,  but  ? 
) by  reason  of  him  who  hath  subjected  the  same  in  hope ; ) 
$ because  the  creature  itself  also  shall  be  delivered  from  < 
i the  bondage  of  corruption  into  the  glorious  liberty  of) 
) the  children  of  God  : for  we  know  that  the  whole  s 
l creation  groaneth  and  travaileth  in  pain  together  until  j 
l now.  Rom.  viii.  19 — 22.  [Epistle  for  the  Day.]  ‘ 

) [O  God,  the  protector  of  all  that  trust  in  thee,  with- 
' out  whom  nothing  is  strong,  nothing  is  holy;  increase 
\ and  multiply  upon  us  thy  mercy  ; that  thou  being  our 
£ ruler  and  guide,  we  may  so  pass  through  things  tempo- 

< ral,  that  we  finally  lose  not  the  things  eternal ; grant 
} this,  O heavenly  Father,  lor  Jesus  Christ’s  sake  our 

< Lord.  Amen.] 

| It  was  not  then  a poet’s  dream, 

\ An  idle  vaunt  of  song, 

) Such  as  beneath  the  moon’s  soft  gleam 
On  vacant  fancies  throng, 

Which  bids  us  see  in  heaven  and  earth, 

In  all  fair  things  around, 

Strong  yearnings  for  a bless’d  new  birth 
With  sinless  glories  crown’d: 

Which  bids  us  hear,  at  each  sweet  pause 
From  care  and  want  and  toil, 

When  dewy  eve  her  curtain  draws 
Over  the  day’s  turmoil, 


In  the  low  chant  of  wakeful  birds, 
In  the  deep  weltering  tiood, 


4 


FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  175$ 

Iii  whispering  leaves,  these  solemn  words— 
“God  made  us  ail  for  good,” 

AlLtrue,  all  faultless,  all  in  tune, 

Creation’s  wondrous  choir 
Open’d  in  mystic  unison 
To  last  till  time  expire. 

And  still  it  lasts:  by  day  and  night, 

With  one'  consenting  voice. 

All  hymn  thy  glory,  Lord,  aright, 

All  worship  and  rejoice. 

Man  only  mars  the  sweet  accord, 

Overpowering  with  “ harsh  din” 

The  music  of  thy  works  and  word, 

111  matched  with  grief  and  sin. 

Sin  is  with  man  at  morning  break, 

And  through  the  live-long  day 
Deafens  the  ear  that  fain  would  wake 
To  Nature's  simple  lay. 

Rut  when  eve’s  silent  footfall  steals 
Along  the  eastern  sky. 

And  one  by  one  to  earth  reveals 
Those  purer  tires  on  high, 

When  one  by  one  each  human  sound 
Dies  on  the  awful  ear. 

Then  Nature’s  voice  no  more  is  drown’d, 

She  speaks  and  we  must  hear. 

Then  pours  she  on  the  Christian  heart 
That  warning  still  and  deep, 

At  which  high  spirits  of  old  would  start 
Even  from  their  Pagan  sleep, 


176  FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


Just  guessing,  through  their  murky  blind, 
Few,  faint,  and  baffling  sight, 

Streaks  of  a brighter  heaven  behind 
A cloudless  depth  of  light. 

Such  thoughts,  the  wreck  of  Paradise, 
Through  many  a dreary  age, 

Upbore  whate’er  of  good  and  wise 
Yet  lived  in  bard  or  sage  : 

They  mark’d  what  agonizing  throes 
Shook  the  great  mother’s  womb  ; 

But  Reason’s  spells  might  not  disclose 
The  gracious  birth  to  come  ; 

Nor  could  th’  enchantress  Hope  forecast 
God’s  secret  love  and  power  : 

The  travail-pangs  of  earth  must  last 
Till  her  appointed  hour; 

The  hour  that  saw  from  opening  heaven 
Redeeming  glory  stream, 

Beyond  the  summer  hues  of  even, 

Beyond  the  mid-day  beam. 

Thenceforth,  to  eyes  of  high  desire, 

The  meanest  things  below, 

As  with  a seraph’s  robe  of  fire 
Invested,  burn  and  glow  : 

The  rod  of  heaven  has  touch’d  them  all, 
The  word  from  heaven  is  spoken  ; 

“ Rise,  shine,  and  sing,  thou  captive  thrall; 
Are  hot  thy  fetters  broken  1 

The  God  who  hallow’d  thee  and  bless’d, 
Pronouncing  thee  all  good — 

Hath  he  not  all  thy  wrongs  redress’d, 

And  all  thy  bliss  renew’d  ? 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  177  \ 

Why  mourn’st  thou  still  as  one  bereft, 

Now  that  th’  eternal  Son 

His  blessed  Home  in  heaven  hath  left 
To  make  thee  all  his  own  ?” 

Thou  mourn’st  because  sin  lingers  still 
In  Christ’s  new  heaven  and  earth  ; 

Because  our  rebel  works  and  will 
Stain  our  immortal  birth  ; 

Because,  as  love  and  prayer  grow  cold, 

The  Saviour  hides  his  face. 

And  worldlings  blot  the  temple’s  gold 
With  uses  vile  and  base. 

Hence  all  thy  groans  and  travail  pains, 

Hence,  till  thy  God  return, 

In  wisdom’s  ear  thy  blithest  strains, 

Oh  Nature,  seem  to  mourn. 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

THE  FISHERMEN  OF  BETHSAIDA. 

And  Simon  answering  said  unto  Him,  Master,  we  < 
shave  toiled  all  th’e  night,  and  have  taken  nothing;  \ 
£ nevertheless,  at  thy  word  1 will  let  down  the  net ; and  ) 
5 when  they  had  this  done,  they  enclosed  a great  multi-  ' 
Mude  of  fishes,  and  their  net  brake.  — St.  Luke  v.  5.  < 
i [Gospel  for  the  Day.'] 

1 [Grant,  O Lord,  we  beseech  thee,  that  the  course  of) 
this  world  may  lie  so  peaceably  ordered  by  thy  gover-  < 
nance,  that  thy  church  may  joyfully  serve  thee  in  all  ? 
godly  quietness,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 


12 


; 178  FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


“ The  live  long  rught  we’ve  toiled  in  vain, 
But  at  thy  gracious  word 
I will  let  down  the  net  again : — 

Do  thou  thy  will,  O Lord  1” 

So  spake  the  weary  fisher,  spent 
With  bootless,  darkling  toil. 

Yet  on  his  Master’s  bidding  bent 
For  love  and  not  for  spoil. 

So  day  by  day  and  week  by  week, 

In  sad  and  weary  thought. 

They  muse,  whom  God  hath  set  to  seek 
The  souls  his  Christ  hath  bought. 

For  not  upon  a tranquil  lake 
Our  pleasant  tasl^  we  ply, 

Where  all  along  our  glistening  wake 
The  softest  moonbeams  lie  ; 

Where  rippling  wave  and  dashing  oar 
Our  midnight  chant  attend, 

Or  whispering  palm-leaves  from  the  shore 
With  midnight  silence  blend. 

Sweet  thoughts  of  peace,  ye  may  not  last : 
Too  soon  some  ruder  sound 
Calls  us  from  where  ye  soar  so  fast 
Back  to  our  earthly  round. 

For  wildest  storms  our  ocean  sweep  : — 

No  anchor  but  the  Cross 
Might  hold  : and  oft  the  thankless  deep 
Turns  all  our  toil  to  loss. 

Full  many  a dreary  anxious  hour 
We  watch  our  nets  alone 
In  drenching  spray,  and  driving  shower, 
And  hear  the  night-bird’s  moan  : 


1 


FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  179 


At  morn  we  look,  and  naught  is  there; 
Sad  dawn  of  cheerless  day  ! 

Who  then  from  pining  and  despair 
The  sickening  heart  can  stay  ? 

There  is  a stay— and  we  are  strong ; 

Our  Master  is  at  hand, 

To  cheer  our  solitary  song, 

And  guide  us  to  the  strand, 

In  his  own  time : but  yet  awhile 
Our  bark  at  sea  must  ride  : 

Cast  after  cast,  by  force  or  guile 
All  waters  must  be  tried : 

By  blameless  guile  or  gentle  force, 

As  when  he  deign'd  to  teach 

(The  lode-star  of  our  Christian  course) 
Upon  this  sacred  beach. 

Should  e’er  thy  wonder-working  grace 
Triumph  hy  our  weak  arm, 

Let  not  our  sinful  fancy  trace 
Aught  human  in  the  charm  : 

To  our  own  nets*  ne’er  bow  we  down, 
Lest  on  the  eternal  shore 

The  angels,  while  our  draught  they  own,f 
Reject  us  evermore : 

Or,  if  for  our  un worthiness 

Toil,  prayer,  and  watching  fail. 

In  disappointment  thou  canst  bless, 

So  love  at  heart  prevail. 


4 


* Habakkuk  i.  16.  They  sacrifice  unto  their  net,  \ 
and  burn  incense  unto  their  drag, 
t St.  Matthew  xiii.  49. 


•f- 


180  SIXTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


SIXTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


THE  PSALMIST  REPENTING. 

David  said  onto  Nathan,  I have  sinned  against  the 
l Lord  : and  Nathan  said  unto  David,  The  Lord  also 

> hath  put  away  thy  sin  ; thou  shalt  not  die.— ‘2  Samuel 

> xii.  13.  [First  Morning  Lesson,  Church  of  England, .] 

[O  God,  who  hast  prepared  for  those  who  love  thee, 

> such  good  things  as  pass  man’s  understanding;  paur 

> into  our  hearts  such  love  towards  thee,  that  we,  loving 

> thee  above  all  things,  may  obtain  thy  promises,  which 
; exceed  all  that  we  can  desire,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
j Lord,  jlmcn.] 

When  bitter  thoughts,  of  conscience  born, 
With  sinners  wake  at  morn, 

When  from  our  restless  couch  we  start, 

With  fever’d  lips  and  wither’d  heart, 

; Where  is  the  spell  to  charm  those  mists  away, 
And  make  new  morning  in  that  darksome  day? 
One  draught  of  spring’s  delicious  air, 

One  steadfast  thought,  that  God  is  there. 

These  are  thy  wonders,  hourly  wrought,* 

Thou  Lord  of  time  and  thought, 


* [How  fresh,  O Lord,  how  sweet  and  clean 

Are  thy  returns  ! even  as  the  flowers  in  spring, 
To  which,  besides  their  own  demean, 

The  late  past  frosts  tributes  of  pleasure  bring. 
Grief  melts  away 
Like  snow  in  May, 

As  if  there  were  no  such  cold  thing. 

Who  would  have  thought  my  shrivell’d  heart 
Could  have  recover’d  greenness.  It  was  gone 
Quite  under  ground,  as  flowers  depart 
To  see  their  mothor-root,  when  they  have  flown  ; 


SIXTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  181  j 

j Lifting  and  lowering  souls  at  will, 

< Crowding  a world  of  good  or  ill 

< Into  a moment’s  vision  ; even  as  light 

; Mounts  o’er  a cloudy  ridge,  and  all  is  bright, 

From  west  to  east  one  thrilling  ray 
Turning  a wintry  world  to  May. 

Wouldst  thou  the  pangs  of  guilt  assuage? 

Lo  here  an  open  page, 

Where  heavenly  mercy  shines  as  free, 

Written  in  balm,  sad  heart,  for  thee. 

I Never  so.  fast,  in  silent  April  shower, 

\ Flush’d  into  green  the  dry  and  leafless  bower,* 

As  Israel’s  crowned  mourner  felt 
The  dull  hard  stone  within  him  melt. 

The  absolver  saw  the  mighty  grief, 

And  hasten’d  with  relief;— 

“ The  Lord  forgives  ; thou  shalt  not  die:”— 
’Twas  gently  spoke,  yet  heard  on  high, 

> And  all  the  band  of  angels,  used  to  sing 

> In  heaven,  accordant  to  his  raptured  string, 

' Who  many  a month  had  turn’d  away 

With  veiled  eyes,  nor  own’d  his  lay, 


Where  they  together 
All  the  hard  weather 
Dead  to  the  world,  keep  house  unknown. 

These  are  thy  wonders,  Lord  of  power, 

Kilting  and  quickening,  bringing  down  to  hell 
And  up  to  heaven  in  an  hour, 

Making  a chiming  of  a passing  bell. 

We  say  amiss, 

This  or  that  is — 

Thy  word  is  all,  if  we  could  spell. 

Herbert's  Poems,  ( 164 1 ,)  p.  160.] 
* And  all  this  leafless  and  uncolour’d  scene 
Shall  flush  into  variety  again. 

Cowper. 


Now  spread  their  Wings,  and  throng  around 
To  the  glad  mournful  sound, 

And  welcome,  with  bright  open  face, 

The  broken  heart  to  love’s  embrace.* 

J The  rock  is  smitten,  and  to  future  years 
; Springs  ever  fresh  the  tide  of  holy  tearsf 
And  holy  music,  whispering  peace 
Till  time  and  sin  together  cease. 

There  drink : and  when  ye  are  at  rest, 

With  that  free  Spirit  blest, | 

Who  to  the  contrite  can  dispense 
The  princely  heart  of  innocence. 

’ If  ever,  floating  from  faint  earthly  lyre, 

! Was  wafted  to  your  soul  one  high  desire, 

By  all  the  trembling  hope  ye  feel, 

Think  on  the  minstrel  as  ye  kneel : 

Think  on  the  shame,  that  dreadful  hour 
When  tears  shall  have  no  power, 
Should  his  own  lay  th’  accuser  prove 
Gold,  while  he  kindled  others’  love  : 


> * fThe  idea,  in  this  stanza,  of  the  angels,  who  had  > 

> been  wont  to  sing  in  tune  with  David’s  lyre,  offended  < 
by  his  grievous  fall,  but,  on  the  instant  of  his  penitence,  ? 
restored  to  sympathizing  joy,  is  beyond  all  praise.  S 
“There  is  joy  among  the  angels  of  God  over  one  \ 

\ sinner  that  repenteth.”J 

| t The  fifty-first  P§alm. 

\ t Psalm  li.  12:  “Uphold  me  with  th  y free  Spirit.” 

I The  original  word  seems  to  mean  “ ingenuous,  princely,  S 
) noble.”  Read  Bishop  Horne’s  Paraphrase  on  the  i 
( verse.  [“  Heprayeth  to  be  continued  in  that  state  of) 

> salvation,  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  which  might  enable  s 
s him  to  act  as  became  a prophet  and  a king,  free  from  ? 
s base  desires  and  enslaving  lusts.”] 


SEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  183 


i 

\ And  let  your  prayer  for  charity  arise, 

\ That  his  own  heart  may  hear  his  melodies, 

< And  a true  voice  to  him  may  cry, 

< “ Thy  God  forgives— thou  shalt  not  die.” 


l SEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY,  j 

THE  FEAST  IN  THE  WILDERNESS. 

, From  whence  can  a man  satisfy  these  men  with 
? bread  here  in  the  wilderness  ? — St.  Mark  viii.  4.  \ 
$ [ Gospel  for  the  Day.) 

> [Lord  of  all  power  and  might,  who  art  the  author  j 

< and  giver  of  all  good  things  ; graft  in  our  hearts  the 

? love  of  thy  name,  increase  in  us  true  religion,  nourish  > 
$ us  with  all  goodness,  and  of  thy  great  mercy  ke^p  us  J 
in  the  same  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Go  not  away,  thou  weary  soul : 

Heaven  has  in  store  a precious  dole 
; Here  on  Bethsaida’s  cofd  and  darksome  height, 
j Where  over  rocks  and  sands  arise 
i Proud  Sirion  in  the  northern  skies, 

) And  Tabor’s  lonely  peak,  ’twixt  thee  and  noon-  { 
day  light. 

| And  far  below,  Gennesaret’s  main 

< Spreads  many  a mile  of  liquid  plain,* 

' (Though  all  seem  gather’d  in  one  eager  bound,)  ) 

< Then  narrowing  cleaves  yon  balmy  lea,  j 

< Towards  that  deep  sulphureous  sea, 

; Where  five  proud  cities  lie,  by  one  dire  sentence  ) 
\ drown’d. 


* [Clear  as  a crystal  mirror  in  the  beam 
Of  morn,  Tiberias  lake  expanded  lay. 

As  clear  and  smooth : save  where  old  Jordan’s  stream  ! 
Mark’d  through  that  mirror  clear  his  dimpled  way. 


I 184  SEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.. 


Landscape  of  fear!  yet,  weary  heart, 

Thou  need’st  not  in  thy  gloom  depart, 

; Nor  fainting  turn  to  seek  thy  distant  home  ; 
Sweetly  thy  sickening  throbs  are  eyed 
By  the  kind  Saviour  at  thy  side  ; 

> For  healing  and  for  balm  even  noW  thine  hour  is  £ 
come. 

No  fiery  wing  is  seen  to  glide, 

No  cates  ambrosial  are  supplied, 
i But  one  poor  fisher’s  rude  and  scanty  store 
Is  all  He  asks  (and  more  than  needs 
Who  men  and  angels  daily  feeds, 

And  stills  the  wailing  sea-bird  on  the  hungry 
shore. 

The  feast  is  o’er,  the  guests  are  gone, 

And  over  all  that  upland  lone 
! The  breeze  of  eve  sweeps  wildly  as  of  old — 

But  far  unlike  the  former  dreams, 

The  heart’s  sweet  moonlight  softly  gleams 
\ Upon  life’s  varied  view,  so  joyless  erst  and  cold. 

As  mountain  travellers  in  the  night. 

When  heaven  by  fits  is  dark  and  bright, 

> Pause  listening  on  the  silent  heath,  and  hear 
Nor  trampling  hoof  nor  tinkling  bell, 

Then  bolder  scale  the  rugged  fell, 

!>  Conscious  the  more  of  One,  ne’er  seen,  yet  ever 
near : 


> The  mist  that  spread  a shadowy  veil,  at  length 
l Slow  up  the  mountain’s  side  irs  skirts  hath  roll’d, 

And  see  the  sun,  rejoicing  in  his  strength, 
l Now  tip  the  rocks,  now  spread  the  lake  with  gold, 

\ His  sparkling  rays  on  rich  Bethsaida  fling, 

And  light  Capernaum’s  towers,  tall  palms,  and  \ 
limpid  spring. 

Bishop  Mant , Gospel  Miracles,  p.  47.  J 


SEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  185  I 

So  when  the  tones  of  rapture  gay 
On  the  lorn  ear  die  quite  away, 

$ The  lonely  world  seems  lifted  nearer  heaven  ; 

Seen  daily,  yet  unmark’d  before, 

Earth’s  common  paths  are  strewed  all  o’er 
\ With  flowers  of  pensive  hope,  the  wreath  of  man  < 
forgiven. 

The  low  sweet  tones  of  Nature’s  lyre 
No  more  on  listless  ears  expire, 

\ Nor  vainly  smiles  along  the  shady  way 
The  primrose  in  her  vernal  nest, 

Nor  unlamented  sink  to  rest 
\ Sweet  roses  one  by  one,  nor  autumn  leaves  decay. 

There’s  not  a star  the  heaven  can  show, 
There’s  not  a cottage  hearth  below, 

| But  feeds  with  solace  kind  the  willing  soul — 

Men  love  us,  or  they  need  our  love ; 

Freely  they  own,  or  heedless  prove 
$ The  curse  of  lawless  hearts,  the  joy  of  self-control.  < 

Then  rouse  thee  from  desponding  sleep, 

Nor  by  the  way-side  lingering  weep, 

| Nor  fear  to  seek  Him  farther  in  the  wild, 

Whose  love  can  turn  earth’s  worst  and  least 
Into  a conqueror’s  royal  feast ; 

\ Thou  wilt  not  be  untrue,  thou  shalt  not  be  \ 
beguiled. 


] It  is  the  mkn  of  God,  who  was  disobedient  to  the 
? word  of  the  Lord. — l Kings  xiii.  26.  [ First  Lesson, 
/ Morning  Service,  Church  of  England .3 


[O  God,  whose  never-failing  providence  ordereth  all 
things  both  in  heaven  and  earth  ; we  humbly  beseech 
thee  to  put  away  from  us  all  hurtful  things,  and  to  give 
us  those  things  which  are  profitable  for  us,  through 
Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Jlmen.] 


Prophet  of  God,  arise  and  take 

With  thee  the  words  of  wrath  divine, 
The  scourge  of  Heaven,  to  shake 
O’er  yon  apostate  shrine. 

Where  angels  down  the  lucid  stair 

Came  hovering  to  our  sainted  sires, 
Now,  in  the  twilight  glare 
The  heathen’s  wizard  fires. 

Go,  with  thy  voice  the  altar  rend, 

Scatter  the  ashes  ; be  the  arm 
That  idols  would  befriend, 
Shrunk  at  thy  withering  charm. 

Then  turn  thee,  for  thy  time  is  short  ; 

But.  trace  not  o’er  the  former  way, 
Lest  idol  pleasures  court 
Thy  heedless  soul  astray. 

Thou  know’st  how  hard  to  hurry  by, 

Where  on  the  lonely  woodland  road 
Beneath  the  moonlight  sky 
The  festal  warblings  flow’d  ; 


t*  EIGHTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  lS?^ 


Where  maidens  to  the  Q,ueen  of  Heaven 
Wove  the  gay  dance  round  oak  or  palm, 

Or  breathed  their  vows  at  even 
In  hymns  as  soft  as  balm. 

Or  thee  perchance  a darker  spell 
Enthralls ; the  smooth  stones  of  the  flood,* 
By  mountain  grot  or  fell, 

Pollute  with  infant’s  blood ; 

The  giant  altar  on  the  rock, 

The  cavern  whence  the  timbrel’s  call 
Affrights  the  wandering  flock  ; 

Thou  long’st  to  search  them  all. 

Trust  not  the  dangerous  path  again— 

O forward  step  and  lingering  will ! 

O loved  and  warned  in  vain  ! 

And  wilt  thou  perish  still  ? 

Thy  message  given,  thine  home  in  sight, 
To  the  forbidden  feast  return  ? # 

Yield  to  the  false  delight 
Thy  better  soul  could  Spurn  ? 

Alas,  my  brother ! round  thy  tomb 
In  sorrow  kneeling,  and  in  fear, 

We  read  the  pastor’s  doom 
Who  speaks  and  wilL-not  hear. 

The  gray-hair’d  saint  rriay  fail  at  last, 

The  surest  guide  a wanderer  prove  ; 

Death  only  binds  4s  fast 
To  the  bright  shore  of  love. 


I * Isaiah  lvii.  6.  Among  the  smooth  stones  of  the  < 
^stream  is  thy  portion ; they,  they  are  thy  lot. 


1 188  NINTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


NINTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


ELIJAH  IN  HOREB. 

And  after  the  earthquake  a fire;  but.  the  Lord  was  5 
? not  in  the  fire  : and  after  the  fire,  a still  small  voice. — < 
£ 1 Kings  xix.  12.  [First  Evening  Lesson , Church  of? 
£ England .] 

[Grant  to  us,  Lord,  we  beseech  thee,  the  spirit  to  > 
c think  and  do  always  such  things  as  are  right ; that  we,  ' 
i who  cannot  do  any  thing  that  is  good  without  thee,  < 
< may  by  thee  be  enabled  to  live  according  to  thy  will,  < 
£ through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.} 

! In  troublous  days  of  anguish  and  rebuke, 

! While  sadly  round  them  Israel’s  children  look, 

And  their  eyes  fail  for  waiting  on  their  Lord  : 

\ While  uri'dejneath  each  awful  arch  6f  green, 

; On  every  mountain-top,  God’s  chosen  scene 
Of  pure  heart-worship,  Baal  is  adored  ; 

’Tis  well,  true  hearts  should  for  a time  retire 
£ To  holy  ground,  in  quiet  to  aspire 

Towards  promised  regions  of  serener  grace  ; 

\ On  Horeb,  with  Elijah,  let  us  lie, 

[ Where  all  around  on  mountain,  sand,  and  sky, 
God’s  chariot-wheels  have  left  distinctest  trace  ; 

\ There,  if  in  jealousy  and  strong  disdain 
; We  to  the  sinner’s  God  of  sin  complain, 

Untimely  seeking  here  the  peace  of  heaven— 

$ “ It  is  enough,  O Lord  ! now  let  me  die 
> Even  as  my  fathers  did  ; for  what  am  I 

That  I should  stand,  where  they  have  vainly  j 
striven  ?” 


NINTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  189^ 


; Perhaps  our  God  may  of  our  conscience  ask,  < 

1 What  doest  thou  here,  frail  wanderer  from  thy  1 
task  ? ! 

Where  hast  thou  left  those  few  sheep  in  the  i 
wild?”*  i 

£ Then  should  we  plead  our  heart’s  consuming  pain,  [ 

' At  sight  of  ruin'd  altars,  prophets  slain, 

And  God’s  own  ark  with  blood  of  souls  defiled  ; 

| He  on  the  rock  may  bid  us  stand,  and  see 
> The  outskirts  of  his  march  of  mystery, 

His  endless  warfare  with  man’s  wilful  heart; 

! First,  His  great,  power  He  to  the  sinner  shows, 

! Lo!  at  His  angry  blast  the  rocks  unclose, 

And  to  their  base  the  trembling  mountains  j 
part ; 

\ Yet  the  Lord  is  not  here  ; ’t is  not  by  power 
! He  will  be  known— but  darker  tempests  lower; 

Still,  sullen  heavings  vex  the  labouring  ground  ; < 
J Perhaps  His  presence  through  all  depth  and  height,  < 
; Best  of  all  gems  that  deck  his  crown  of  light, 

The  haughty  eye  may  dazzle  and  confound. 

\ God  is  not  in  the  earthquake  ; but  behold 
; From  Sinai’s  caves  are  bursting,  as  of  old, 

; The  flames  of  his  consuming,  jealous  ire. 

; Wo  to  the  sinner,  should  stern  justice  prove 
| His  chosen  attribute but  he  in  love 
Hastes  to  proclaim,  “ God  is  not  in  the  fire.” 


; The  storm  is  o’er— and  hark  ! a still  small  voice 
; Steals  on  the  ear,  to  say,  Jehovah’s  choice 
> Is  ever  with  the  soft,  meek,  tender  soul : 

! * 1 Sam.  xvii.  c28. 


> 190  NINTH  SUNDAY  AFTER'  TRINITY. 

> By  soft,  meek,  tender  ways  He  loves  to  draw* 

> The  sinner,  startled  by  his  ways  of  awe: 

; Here  is  our  Lord,  and  not  where  thunders  roll. 


Back  then,  complainer ; loathe  thy  life  no  more, 

> Nor  deem  thyself  upon  a desert  shore, 

Because  the  rocks  the  nearer  prospect  close. 

! Yet  in  fallen  Israel  are  their  hearts  and  eyesf 
! That  day  by  day  in  prayer  like  thine  arise  : 

Thou  know’st  them  not,  but  their  Creator 
knows.]; 


* [Beautifully  descriptive  of  the  Saviour’s  way  of  > 
drawing  sinners  unto  him.  “ He  shall  not.  strive  nor  s 

> cry,  neither  shall  any  man  hear  his  voice  in  the  street,  i 
A bruised  reed  shall  he  not  break,  and  smoking  flax  [ 
shall  he  not  quench.”  St.  Matthew  xii.  20.] 

> t [“  Yet  I have  left  me  seven  thousand  in  Israel,  all  ; 
\ the  knees  which  have  not  bowed  unto  Baal,  and  every  > 
l mouth  which  hath  not  kissed  him.”  1 Kings  xix.  18  ] $ 

t [THE  SYNAGOGUE. 

‘But  even  unto  this  day,  when  Moses  is  read,  the  £ 
veil  is  upon  their  heart.  Nevertheless,  when  it  shall  ? 
£ turn  to  the  Lord,  the  veil  shall  be  taken  away.”  St.  [ 
[ Paul. 

I saw  them  in  their  synagogue,  as  in  their  ancient  day,  \ 
; And  never  from  my  memory  the  scene  will  fade  away,  < 
i For  dazzling  on  my  vision  still,  the  latticed  galleries  ? 
J shine  ; 

> With  Israel’s  loveliest  daughters,  in  their  beauty  half-  < 
divine ! 

> It  is  the  holy  Sabbath  eve, — the  solitary  light 

! Sheds,  mingled  with  the  hues  of  day,  a lustre  nothing  ) 
; bright ; ( 

> On  swarthy  brow  and  piercing  glance  it  falls  with  sad-  | 

* dening  tinge/  s 

And  dimly  gilds  the  Pharisee’s  phylacteries  and  fringe.  I 


NINTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  191  £ 

Go,  to  the  world  return,  nor  fear  to  cast  S 

Thy  bread  upon  the  waters,  sure  at  last*  \ 

In  joy  to  find  it  after  many  days.  < 

The  work  be  thine,  the  fruit  thy  children’s  part ; ( 
Choose  to  believe,  not  sefe ; sight  tempts  the  l 


From  sober  walking  in  true  Gospel  ways. 


The  two-leaved  doors  slide  slow  apart  before  the 
eastern  screen. 

As  rise  the  Hebrew  harmonies,  with  chanted  prayers 
between. 

And  ’mid  the  tissued  veils  disclosed,  of  many  a gor- 


Robed  in  his  sacerdotal  vest,  a silvery-headed  man 
With  voice  of  solemn  cadence  o’er  the  backward 
letters  ran. 

And  often  yet  methinks  I see  the  glow  and  power  that 


And  fervently  that  hour  1 pray’d,  that  from  the  mighty 
scroll, 

Its  light,  in  burning  characters,  might  break  on  every 
soul. 

That  on  their  harden’d  hearts  the  veil  might  be  na 
longer  dark, 

But  be  forever  rent  in  twain  like  that  before  the  ark. 

For  vet  the  tenfold  film  shall  fall.  O Judah  ! from  thv 


sate  , 

Upon  his  face,  as  forth  he  spread  the  roll  immaculate. 


[ 192  TENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


TENTH  SUNDAY  AETER,  TRINITY. 


CHRIST  WEEPING  OVER  JERUSALEM. 

And  when  He  was  come  near,  He  beheld  (he  city,  | 
l and  wept  over  it. — St.  Luke  xix.  41.  {Gospel  for  the  ? 
\ Day.]  < 

[Let  thy  merciful  ears,  O Lord,  be  open  to  the  > 
5 prayers  of  thy  humble  servants  ; and  that  they  may  < 
( obtain  their  petitions,  make  them  to  ask  such  things  > 
> as  shall  please  thee,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  ) 
] Amen.] 

Why  doth  my  Saviour  weep 
At  sight  of  Sion’s  bowers  ? 

Shows  it  not  fair  from  yonder  steep. 

Her  gorgeous  crown  of  towers  ? 

Mark  well  his  holy  pains : 

’Tis  not  in  pride  or  scorn. 

That  Israel’s  king  with  sorrow  stains 
His  own  triumphal  morn. 

It  is  not  that  his  soul 

Is  wandering  sadly  on, 

In  thought  how  soon  at  death’s  dark  goal 
Their  course  will  all  be  run, 

Who  now  are  shouting  round 
Hosanna  to  their  chief ; 

No  thought  like  this  in  him  is  found, 

This  were  a conqueror’s  grief.* 


* Compare  Herod,  vii.  46.  [“When  he  (Xerxes)  ; 
s saw  the  Hellespont  covered  with  ships,  and  the  whole  s 
? shore  and  plains  of  Abydos  filled  with  soldiers,  he  at  ? 

> first  congratulated  himself  on  his  good  fortune:  but.) 
( soon  after,  he  shed  tears." — “When  l reflect.’’  says  < 

> he.  “on  the  shortness  of  human  life,  and  that  of  so  > 
s many  myriads  of  men,  not  one  will  remain  one  hundred  s 
( years,  1 am  overwhelmed  with  grief.’’ — Strange  in-  ( 


TENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  193  { 


Or  doth  he  feel  the  Cross 
Already  in  his  heart, 

The  pain,  the  shame,  the  scorn,  the  loss  ? 

Feel  even  his  God  depart  ? 

No:  though  he  knew  full  well 
The  grief  that  then  shall  be — 

The  grief  that  angels  cannot  tell — 

Our  God  in  agony — 

It  is  not  thus  he  mourns  ; 

Such  might  be  martyr’s  tears, 

When  his  last  lingering  look  he  turns 
On  human  hopes  and  fears ; 

But  hero  ne’er  or  saint 

The  secret  load  might  know, 

With  which  His  spirit  waxeth  faint; 

His  is  a Saviour’s  wo. 

“ If  thou  hadst  known,  even  thou, 

At  least  in  this  thy  day, 

The  message  of  thy  peace ! but  now 
’Tis  pass’d  for  aye  away  : 

Now  foes  shall  trench  thee  round, 

And  lay  thee  even  with  earth, 

And  dash  thy  children  to  the  ground, 

Thy  glory  and  thy  mirth.” 

And  doth  the  Saviour  weep 
Over  his  people’s  sin, 

Because  we  will  not  let  him  keep 
The  souls  He  died  to  win  ? 

Ye  hearts,  that  love  the  Lord, 

If  at  this  sight  ye  burn, 

See  that  in  thought,  in  deed,  in  word, 

Ye  hate  what  made  Him  mourn. 


$ consistency  in  one  who  was  hurrying  thousands  of  4 
1 to  an  untimely  death  ! But  such  is  man.] 


13 


\ 194  ELEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


ELEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


GEHAZI  REPROVED. 


Is  it  a time  to  receive  money,  and  to  receive  gar-  ( 
? ments,  and  olive' yards,  and  vineyards,  and  sheep  and  ? 
I oxen,  and  men  servants,  and  maid  servants?—  2 Kings  £ 
] v.  26.  [First  Morning  Lesson , Church  of  England .] 

[O  God,  who  declarest  thy  Almighty  power  chiefly  £ 
$ in  showing  mercy  and  pity  ; rhercilully  grant  unto  us  > 
< such  a measure  of  thy  grace,  that  we,  running  the  way  < 
) of  thy  commandments,  may  obtain  thy  gracious  pro-? 
5 nnises,  and  be  made  partakers  of  thy  heavenly  treasure,  [ 
4 through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Is  this  a time  to  plant  and  build, 

Add  house  to  house,  and  field  to  field, 

When  round  our  walls  the  battle  lowers, 
When  mines  are  hid  beneath  our  towers, 

And  watchful  foes  are  stealing  round 
To  search  and  spoil  the  holy  ground  ? 

Is  this  a time  for  moonlight  dreams 
Of  love  and  home  by  mazy  streams, 

For  fancy,  with  her.shadowy  toys, 

Aerial  hopes  and  pensive  joys. 

While  souls  are  wandering  far  and  wide, 

And  curses  swarm  on  every  side  ? 

No— rather  steel  thy  melting  heart 
To  act  the  martyr’s  sternest  part ; 

To  watch,  with  firm,  unshrinking  eye, 

Thy  darling  visions  as  they  die, 

Till  all  bright  hopes,  and  hues  of  day, 

Have  faded  into  twilight  gray. 


4*' 


4 


ELEVENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  195  ) 

Yes— let  them  pass  without  a sigh ; 

And  if  the  world  seem  dull  and  dry. 

If  long  and  sad  thy  lonely  hours, 

And  winds  have  rent  thy  sheltering  bowers, 
Bethink  thee  what  thou  art,  and  where, — 

A sinner  in  a life  of  care. 

The  fire  of  God  is  soon  to  fall 
(Thou  know’st  it)  on  this  earthly  ball ; 

Full  many  a soul,  the  price  of  blood, 

Mark’d  by  th’  Almighty’s  hand  for  good, 

To  utter  death  that  hour  shall  sweep — 

And  will  the  saints  in  heaven  dare  weep? 

Then  in  his  wrath  shall  God  uproot 
The  trees  He  set  for  lack  of  fruit, 

And  drown  in  rude  tempestuous  blaze 
The  towers  His  hand  had  deign’d  to  raise. 

In  silence,  ere  that  storm  begin, 

Count  o’er  His  mercies  and  thy  sin ; 

Pray  only  that  thine  aching  heart, 

From  visions  vain  content  to  part, 

Strong  for  love’s  sake  its  wo  to  hide, 

May  cheerful  wait  the  cross  beside, 

Too  happy,  if  that  dreadful  day 
Thy  life  be  given  thee  for  a prey.* 

Snatch’d  sudden  from  th’  avenging  rod, 

Safe  in  the  bosom  of  thy  God, 


* Jeremiah  xlv.  4,  5.  “The  Lord  saith  thus  : Be- 
| hold,  that  which  I have  built  will  I break  down,  and  J 
that  which  I have  planted  I will  pluck  up,  even  this  > 
\ whole  land.  And  seekest  thou  great  things  for  thyself?  < 
? seek  them  not,  for,  behold,  I will  bring  evil  upon  all 
S flesh,  saith  the  Lord  ; but  thy  life  will  I give  unto  thee  < 
< for  a prey  in  all  places  whither  thou  goest.”  ) 


$196  TWELFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

How  wilt  thou  then  look  baek,  and  smile 
On  thoughts  that  bitterest  seem’d  erewhile, 
And  bless  the  pangs  that  made  thee  see 
This  was  no  world  of  rest  for  thee ! 


TWELFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


THE  DEAF  AND  DUMB. 

f And  looking  up  to  heaven.  He  sighed,  and  saith  unto  l 
i him,  Pphphatha,  that  is,  Be  opened. — St.  Mark  vii.  34.  \ 
$ [Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who  art  always  £ 
$ more  ready  to  hear  than  we  to  pray,  and  art  wont  to  \ 

< give  more  than  either  we  desire  or  deserve  ; pour  down  $ 
p upon  us  the  abundance  of  thy  mercy,  forgiving  us  those  > 

< things  whereof  our  conscience  is  afraid,  and  giving  us  < 
? those  good  things  which  we  are  not  worthy  to  ask.  but  > 
S through  the  merits  and  mediation  of  Jesus  Christ  thy  $ 
$ Son  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

The  Son  of  God  in  doing  good 
Was  fain  to  look  to  heaven  and  sigh: 

And  shall  the  heirs  of  sinful  blood 
Seek  joy  unmix’d  in  charity? 

God  will  not  let  love’s  work  impart 
Full  solace,  lest  it  steal  the  heart ; 

Be  thou  content  in  tears  to  sow, 

Blessing,  like  Jesus,  in  thy  wo. 

He  look’d  to  heaven,  and  sadly  sigh’d— 

What  saw  my  gracious  Saviour  there, 

With  fear  and  anguish  to  divide 
The  joy  of  Heaven-accepted  prayer  ! 

So  o’er  the  bed  where  Lazarus  slept 
He  to  his  Father  groan’d  and  wept : 


TWELFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  197  ] 

What  saw  he  mournful  in  that  grave, 

Knowing  himself  so  strong  to  save  ? 

Overwhelming  thoughts  of  pain  and  grief 
Over  his  sinking  spirit  sweep ; — 

“ What  boots  it  gathering  one  lost  leaf 
Out  of  ypn  sere  and  wither’d  heap, 

Where  souls  and  bodies,  hopes  and  joys, 

All  that  earth  owns  or  sin  destroys, 

Under  the  spurning  hoof  are  cast, 

Or  tossing  in  th’  autumnal  blast  ?” 

The  deaf  may  hear  the  Saviour’s  voice, 

The  fetter’d  tongue  its  chain  may  break  ; 

But  the  deaf  heart,  the  dumb  by  choice, 

The  laggard  soul,  that  will  not  wake, 

The  guilt  that  scorns  to  be  forgiven— 

These  baffle  e’en  the  spells  of  Heaven  ; 

In  thought  of  these,  his  brows  benign 
Not  even  in  healing  cloudless  shine. 

No  eye  but  His  might  ever  bear 
To  gaze  all  down  that  drear  abyss, 

Because  none  ever  saw  so  clear 
The  shore  of  endless  bliss  ; 

The  giddy  waves  so  restless  hurl’d, 

The  vex’d  pulse  of  this  feverish  world, 

He  views  and  counts  with  steady  sight, 

Used  to  behold  the  Infinite. 

But  that  in  such  communion  high 
He  hath  a fount  of  strength  within, 

Sure  His  meek  heart  would  break  and  die, 
O’erburden’d  by  his  brethren’s  sin  ; 

Weak  eyes  on  darkness  dare  not  gaze, 

It  dazzles  like  the  noon-day  blaze  ; 

But  He  who  sees  God’s  face  may  brook 
On  the  true  face  of  sin  to  look. 


What  then  shall  wretched  sinners  do, 

When  in  their  last,  their  hopeless  day, 

Sin,  as  it  is,  shall  meet  their  view, 

God  turn  his  fade  for  aye  away  ? 

Lord,  by  thy  sad  and  earnest  eye, 

When  Thou  didst  look  to  heaven  and  sigli ; 
Thy  voice,  that  with  a word  could  chase 
The  dumb,  deaf  spirit  from  his  place  ; 

As  thou  hast  touch’d  our  ears,  and  taught 
Our  tongues  to  speak  thy  praises  plain, 
Quell  thou  each  thankless,  godless  thought 
That  would  make  fast  our  bonds  again. 
From  worldly  strife,  from  mirth  unblest, 
Drowning  thy  music  in  the  breast, 

From  foul  reproach,  from  thrilling  fears, 
Preserve,  good  Lord,  thy  servants’  ears. 

From  idle  words,  that  restless  throng. 

And  haunt  our  hearts  when  we  would  pray, 
From  pride’s  false  chime,  and  jarring  wrong. 
Seal  Thou  my  lips,  and  guard  the  way  : 

For  Thou  hast  sworn,  that  every  ear, 

Willing  or  loath,  thy  trump  shall  hear, 

And  every  tongue  unchained  be 
To  own  no  hope,  no  God,  but  Thee. 


THIRTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  199  [ 


THIRTEENTH  SUNDAY  AETER 
TRINITY. 


MOSES  ON  THE  MOUNT. 

, And  he  fumed  him  unto  his  disciples,  and  said  \ 

> privately,  Blessed  arc  the  eyes  whch  see  the  things  S 
! that  ye  see  : for  I tell  you,  that  many  prophets  and  \ 
; kings  have  desired  to  see  those  things  which  ye  see,  ? 
! and  have  not  seen  them  : and  to  hear  those  things  S 
’ which  ye  hear,  and  have  not  heard  them. — St.  Luke  < 
( x.  23,  24.  [.Gospel  for  tfie  Day .] 

[Almighty  and  merciful  God,  of  whose  only  gift  it  £ 
cometh  that  thy  faithful  people  do  unto  thee  true  and  ! 
laud  bie  service  ; grant,  we  beseech  thee,  that  we  may  5 
\ so  faithfully  serve  thee  in  this  life,  that  we  tail  not  < 

> finally  to  attain  thy  heavenly  promises,  through  the  £ 

> merits  of  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

On  Srhai’s  top,  in  prayer  and  trance, 

Full  forty  nights  and  forty  days 

The  Prophet  watch’d  for  one  dear  glance 
Of  Thee  and  of  thy  ways  : 

Fasting  he  watch’d  and  all  alone, 

Wrapt  in  a still,  dark,  solid  cloud, 

The  curtain  of  the  Holy  One 
Drawn  round  him  like  a shroud: 

So,  separate  from  the  world,  his  breast 
Might  duly  take  and  strongly  keep 

The  print  of  Heaven,  to  be  express’d 
Ere  long  on  Sion’s  steep.* 


See  that  thou  make  all  things  according  to  the  > 
pattern  showed  to  thee  in  the  mount.—  Hebrews  viii.  5.  < 


I 200  THIRTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

There  one  by  one  his  spirit  saw 

Of  things  divine  the  shadows  bright, 

The  pageant  of  God’s  perfect  law ; 

Yet  felt  not  full  delight. 

Through  gold  and  gems,  a dazzling  maze, 
From  veil  to  veil  the  vision  led, 

And  ended,  where  unearthly  rays 
From  o’er  the  Ark  were  shed. 

Yet  not  that  gorgeous  place,  nor  aught 
Of  human  or  angelic  frame, 

Could  half-appease  his  craving  thought ; 

The  void  was  still  the  same. 

“ Show  me  thy  glory,  gracious  Lord ! 

’Tis  Thee,”  he  cries,  “ not  thine,  I seek.”*- 
Nay,  start  not  at  so  bold  a word 
From  man,  frail  worm  and  weak : 

The  spark  of  his  first  deathless  fire 
Yet  buoys  him  up,  and  high  above 
The  holiest  creature,  dares  aspire 
To  the  Creator’s  love. 

The  eye  in  smiles  may  wander  round, 

Caught  by  earth’s  shadows  as  they  fleet ; 
But  for  the  soul  no  help  is  found, 

Save  Him  who  made  it,  meet. 

Spite  of  yourselves,  ye  witness  this,f 
Who  blindly  self  or  sense  adore  ; 


* Exodus  xxxiii.  18. 

, f Penseesde  Pascal,  part  1,  art.  viii.  [“Considerons  \ 
< le  maintenant  a I’egard  de  la  felicite  qu’il  recherche  S 
) avec  tant  d’ardeur  en  toutes  ses  actions.  Car  tous  les  < 
hommes  desirent  d’etre  heureux  ; cela  est  sans  excep-  5 
tion.  Quelques  differents  moyens  qu’ils  y emploient,  < 
) ils  tendent  tous  a ce  but.  Ce  qui  fait  que  l’un  va  a la  £ 


THIRTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  201  < 

Else  wherefore,  leaving  your  own  bliss, 

Still  restless  ask  ye  more  ? 

This  witness  bore  the  saints  of  old, 

When  highest  rapt  and  favour’d  most, 

Still  seeking  precious  things  untold, 

Not  in  fruition  lost. 

Canaan  .was  theirs,  and  in  it  all 
The  proudest  hope  of  kings  dare  claim  ; 

Sion  was  theirs  ; and  at  their  call 
Fire  from  Jehovah  came. 

Yet  monarchs  walk’d  as  pilgrims  still 
In  their  own  land,  earth’s  pride  and  grace; 

And  seers  would  mourn  on  Sion’s  hill 
Their  Lord’s  averted  face. 

Vainly  they  tried  the  deeps  to  sound 
Even  of  their  own  prophetic  thought, 

When  of  Christ  crucified  and  crdwn’d 
His  Spirit  in  them  taught ; 

But  He  their  aching  gaze  repress’d, 

Which  sought  behind  the  veil  to  see, 


> guerre,  et  que  1’ autre  n’y  va  pas  ; c’est  ce  meme  desir  ? 
S qui  est  dans  tous  les  deux,  accompagne  de  diffcrentes  5 
' vues.  La  volonie  ne  fait  jamais  la  moindre  demarche  < 

> que  vers  cet  objet.  C’est  le  motif  de  toutes  les  actions  > 

I de  tous  les  hotnmes,  jusqu’  a ceux  qui  se  tuent  et  qui  < 
$ se  pendent.  ? 

“ Et  ce  pendant  depuis  un  de  grand  nombre.d'an-  5 
, lees,  jamais  personne,  sans  la  foi,  n’est  arrive  a ce  < 

> point,  ou  tous  tendent  continuellement.  Tous  se  plai-  ) 

> gnent,  principes,  sujets:  nobles,  roturiers ; vieillards,  s 

? jeunes ; forts,  foibles ; savants,  ignorant9 ; sains,  ma-  2 
[ lades ; de  tout  pays,  de  tout  temps  ; de  tous  ages,  et  de  5 
c toutes  conditions.”]  5 


i 202  THIRTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

For  not  without  us  fully  bless’d* 

Or  perfect  might  they  be. 

The  rays  of  the  Almighty’s  face 
No  sinner’s  eye  might  then  receive  ; 

Only  the  meekest  man  found  gracej 
To  see  his  skirts  and  live. 

But  we  as  in  a glass  espy 
The  glory  of  His  countenance, 

Not  in  a whirlwind  hurrying  by 
The  too  presumptuous  glance, 

But  with  mild  radiance  every  hour. 

From  our  clear  Saviour’s  face  benign 

Bent  on  us  with  transforming  power, 

Till  we,  too,  faintly  shine. 

Sprinkled  with  His  atoning  blood. 

Safely  before  our  God  we  stand, 

As  on  the  rock  the  Prophet  stood, 

Beneath  his  shadowing  hand.— 

Bless’d  eyes,  which  see  the  things  we  see ! 
And  yet  this  tree  of  life  hath  proved 

To  many  a soul  a poison  tree, 

Beheld,  and  not  beloved. 

So  like  an  angel’s  is  our  bliss, 

(Oh  ! thought  to  comfort  and  appal,) 

It  needs  must  bring,  if  used  amiss, 

An  angel’s  hopeless  fall. 


* Hebrews  xi.  40.  That  they  without  us  should  not  £ 
> be  made  perfect. 

t Exodus  xxxiii.  20—23. 


FOURTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  203  < 


FOURTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY.  . 

THE  TEN  LEPERS. 


1 


\ cleansed?  but  where  are  the  nine?  There  are  not  5 
( found  that  returned  to  give  glory  to  God,  save  this  ^ 
? stranger. — St.  Luke  xvii.  17,  18.  [ Oospel  for  the  > 
{ Day.] 

[Almighty  and  everlasting  Cod,  give  unto  us  the  { 

> increase  of  faith,  hope,  and  charity  ; and  that  we  may 

l obtain  that  which  thou  dost  promise,  make  us  to  love  < 

> that  which  thou  dost  command,  through  Jesus  Christ  \ 
[ our  Lord.  Amen .] 

Ten  cleansed,  and  only  one  remain  ! 

Who  would  have  thought  our  nature’s  stain 
Was  dyed  so  foul,  so  deep  in  grain  ? 

Even  He  who  reads  the  heart, 

Knows  what  He  gave  and  what  we  lost, 

Sin’s  forfeit,  and  redemption’s  cost, — 

By  a short  pang  of  wonder  cross’d, 

Seems  at  the  sight  to  start. 

Yet  ’twas  not  wonder,  but  His  love 
Our  wavering  spirits  would  reprove, 

That  heavenward  seem  so  free  to  move 
When  earth  can  yield  no  more  : 

Then  from  afar  on  God  we  cry  ; 

But  should  the  mist  of  wo  roll  by, 

Not  showers  across  an  April  sky 
Dr.ift,  when  the  storm  is  o’er, 

Faster  than  those  false  drops  and  few 
Fleet  from  the  heart,  a worthless  dew. 

What  sadder  scene  can  angels  view 
Than  self-deceiving  tears, 


j 204  FOURTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

Pour’d  idly  over  some  dark  page 
Of  earlier  life,  though  pride  or  rage 
The  record  of  to-day  engage, 

A wo  for  future  years? 

Spirits,  that  round  the  sick  man’s  bed 
Watch’d,  noting  down  each  prayer  he  made, 
Were  your  unerring  roll  display’d, 

His  pride  of  health  t’  abase; 

Or,  when  soft  showers  in  season  fall, 
Answering  a famish’d  nation’s  call, 

Should  unseen  fingers  on  the  wall 
Our  vows  forgotten  trace  i 

How  should  we  gaze  in  trance  of  fear  1 
Yet  shines  the  light  as  thrilling  clear 
From  heaven  upon  that  scroll  severe, 

“ Ten  cleansed,  and  one  remain  !” 

Nor  surer  would  the  blessing  prove 
Of  humbled  hearts,  that  own  thy  love, 
Should  choral  welcome  from  above 
Visit  our  senses  plain, 

Than  by  Thy  placid  voice  and  brow, 

With  healing  first,  with  comfort  now, 

Turn’d  upon  him  who  hastes  to  bow 
Before  Thee,  heart  and  knee ; 

“ Oh  ! thou,  who  only  would’st  be  blest, 

On  thee  alone  iny  blessing  rest ! 

Rise,  go  thy  way  in  peace,  possess’d 
For  evermore  of  me.” 


FIFTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  205 


FIFTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 

THE  FLOWERS  OF  THE  FIELD. 

Consider  the  lilies  of  the  field,  how  they  grow. — St. 
Matthew  vi.  28.  [Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

[Keep,  we  beseech  thee,  O Lord,  thy  Church  with 
thy  perpetual  mercy;  and  because  the  frailty  of  man 
without  thee  cannot  but  fail,  keep  us  ever  by  thy  help 
from  all  things  hurtful,  and  lead  us  to  all  things  profit- 
able to  our  salvation,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
Amen.] 

Sweet  nurslings  of  the  vernal  skies, 

Bathed  in  soft  airs,  and  fed  with  dew, 
What  more  than  magic  in  you  lies, 

To  fill  the  heart’s  fond  view? 

In  childhood’s  sports,  companions  gay,* 

In  sorrow,  on  life’s  downward  way, 

How  soothing!  in  our  last  decay 
Memorials  prompt  and  true. 


$ * [“  Look  at  the  little  child  on  the  meadow,  no 

> matter  though  it  has  been  born  in  the  very  heart  of  a 
< city,  and  seen  nothing  but  brick  walls,  and  crowds, 

? and  rolling  carriages,  and  pavements,  and  dust ; let  it 
S once  get  its  feet  upon  the  sward,  and  it  will  toss  away 
( the  most  costly  playthings,  and  never  gather  enough  of 

> the  butter-cups,  and  daisies,  and  other  wild  flowers 
S which  prank  the  sod.  And  if  it  shall  start  a little  bird, 

I which  bounces  onward  with  easy  wing,  as  if  it  were 
leaping  from  portion  to  portion  of  the  sightless  air,  how 
it  will  stretch  its  little  hands,  and  shout,  and  hurry  on 
to  catch  the  living  tieasure,  which,  in  its  young,  but 
perfectly  natural  estimation,  is  of  more  value  than  the 
wealth  of  the  world.  And  if  the  bird  perches  on  the 
hedge  or  the  tree,  and  sings  its  sweet  song  of  security. 


206  FIFTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


Relics  ye  are  of  Eden’s  bowers, 

As  pure,  as  fragrant,  and  as  fair, 

As  when  ye  crown’d  the  sunshine  hours 
Of  happy  wandarers  there. 

Fallen  all  beside— the  world  of  life, 

How  is  it  stain’d  with  fear  and  strife  ! 

In  reason’s  world  what  storms  are  rife, 
What  passions  rage  and  glare  ! 

But  cheerful  and  unchanged  the  while 
Your  first  and  perfect  form  ye  show, 
The  same  that  won  Eve’s  matron  smile 
In  the  world’s  opening  glow. 

The  stars  of  heaven  a course  are  taught 
Too  high  above  our  human  thought; — 
Ye  may  be  found  if  ye  are  sought, 

And  as  we  gaze,  we  know. 

Ye  dwell  beside  our  paths  and  homes, 
Our  paths  of  sin,  our  homes  of  sorrow, 
And  guilty  man,  where’er  he  roams, 

Your  innocent  mirth  may  borrow. 

The  birds  of  air  before  us  fleet, 

They  cannot  brook  our  shame  to  meet — 
But  we  may  taste  your  solace  sweet 
And  come  again  to-morrow. 

Ye  fearless  in  your  nests  abide — 

Nor  may  we  scorn,  too  proudly  wise, 
Your  silent  lessons,  undescried 
By  all  but  lowly  eyes : 


< the  little  finger  will  at  once  be  held  up  by  their  little  s 
? ear,  and  the  other  hand  will  be  extended  with  the  palm  l 
^backward,  as  if  a sign  were  given  by  Nature  herself) 

< for  the  world  to  listen  and  admire.”— Mudie's  Obser-  £ 
) vation  of  Mature , p.  35.] 


SIXTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  207 


] For  ye  could  draw  th’  admiring  gaze 
i Of  Him  who  worlds  and  hearts  surveys: 

\ Your  order  wild,  your  fragrant  maze, 

| He  taught  us  how  to  prize. 

] Ye  felt  your  Maker’s  smile  that  hour, 
i As  when  he  paused  and  own’d  you  good  ; 


< What  care  ye  now,  if  winter’s  storm 
( Sweep  ruthless  o’er  each  silken  form  ? 
| Christ’s  blessing  at  your  heart  is  warm, 

> Ye  fear  no  vexing  mood. 

? Alas!  of  thousand  bosoms  kind, 

> That  daily  court  you  and  caress, 

> How  few  the  happy  secret  find 
] Of  your  calm  loveliness  ! 

{ “ Live  for  to-day ! to-morrow’s  light 

' To-morrow’s  cares  shall  bring -to  sight; 

\ Go  sleep  like  dosing  flowers  at  night, 

| And  Heaven  thy  morn  will  bless.” 


SIXTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 


( I desire  that  ye  faint  not  at  my  tribulations  for  you, 
which  is  your  glor y— Ephesians  iii.  13.  [Epistle  for 
s the  Day.] 

> [O  Lord,  we  beseech  thee,  let  thy  continual  pity 
• cleanse  and  defend  thy  church;  and  because  it  cannot 

> continue  in  safety  without  thy  succour,  preserve  it 
[ evermore  by  thy  help  and  goodness,  through  Jesus 
\ Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 


‘ 208  SIXTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

Wish  not,  dear  friends,  my  pain  away — 

Wish  me  a wise  and  thankful  heart, 

With  God,  in  all  my  griefs,  to  stay, 

Nor  from  His  loved  correction  start. 

The  dearest  offering  He  can  crave, 

His  portion  in  our  souls  to  prove, 

What  is  it  to  the  gift  He  gave, 

The  only  Son  of  His  dear  love  ? 

But  we,  like  vex’d,  unquiet  sprites, 

Will  still  be  hovering  o’er  the  tomb, 

Where  buried  lie  our  vain  delights, 

Nor  sweetly  take  a sinner’s  doom. 

In  life’s  long  sickness  evermore 
Our  thoughts  are  tossing  to  and  fro : 

We  change  our  posture  o’er  and  o’er, 

But  cannot  rest,  nor  cheat  our  wo. 

Were  it  not  better  to  lie  still, 

Let  Him  strike  home,  and  bless  the  rod; 

Never  so  safe  as  when  our  will 
Yields  undiscern’d  by  all  but  Gocf?* 

* [“  Content  can  never  dwell  but  in  a meek  and  quiet  ; 

< soul.  And  this  may  appear,  if  we  consider  what  our  < 
5 Saviour  says  in  St.  Matthew’s  gospel  ; for  there  he  ? 

< says,  ‘ Blessed  are  the  merciful,  for  they  shall  obtain  5 

> mercy  : blessed  be  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  < 
S God  : blessed  be  the  poor  in  spirit,  for  theirs  is  the  ) 
£ kingdom  of  God:  and  blessed  are  the  meek,  for  they  < 
i shall  possess  the  earth.’  Not  that  the  meek  shall  not  ? 

< also  obtain  mercy,  and  see  God,  and  be  comforted,  and  < 
? at  last  come  to  the  kingdom  of  heaven  ; but,  in  the  < 
s mean  time,  he,  and  he  only,' possesses  the  earth  as  he  5 
r goes  towards  that  kingdom  of  heaven,  by  being  < 
i humble  and  cheerful,  and  content  with  what  his  good  < 

< God  has  allotted  him.  He  has  no  turbulent,  repining,  < 

? vexatious  thoughts,  that  he  deserves  better ; nor  is  < 

> vexed  when  he  sees  others  possessed  of  more  honour  ) 


^ SIXTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  209  \ 


Thy  precious  things,  whate’er  they  he 
That  haunt  and  vex  thee,  heart  and  brain, 

Look  to*  the  Cross,  and  thou  shalt  see 
How  thou  may’st  turn  them  all  to  gain. 

Lovest  thou  praise  ?— the  Cross  is  shame  ; 

Or  ease  ?— the  Cross  is  bitter  grief : 

More  pangs  than  tongue  or  heart  can  frame 
Were  suffer’d  there  without  relief. 

We  of  that  altar  would  partake, 

But  cannot  quit  the  cost — no  throne 

Is  ours,  to  leave  for  Tjiy  dear  sake— 

We  cannot  do  as  Thou  hast  done. 

We  cannot  part  with  heaven  for  Thee — 

Yet  guide  us  in  thy  track  of  love; 

Let  us  gaze  on  where  light  should  be, 
Though  not  a beam  the  clouds  remove. 

So  wanderers  ever  fond  and  true 

Look  homeward  through  the  evening  sky, 

Without  a streak  of  heaven’s  soft  blue 
To  aid  affection’s  dreaming  eye. 

The  wanderer  seeks  his  native  bower. 

And  we  will  look  and  long  for  Thee, 

And  thank  Thee  for  each  trying  hour, 
Wishing,  not  struggling,  to  be  free. 


> or  more  riches  than  his  wise  God  has  allotted  for  his  l 
l share;  but  he  possesses  what  tie  has  with  a meek  and  l 

> contented  quietness,  such  a quietness  as  makes  his  very  ; 
; droains  pleasure  both  to  God  and  himself.” — Isaac  \ 

Walton's  Complete  Angler .] 


14 


*j"210  SEVENTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


SEVENTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 


EZEKIEL’S  VISION  IN  THE  TEMPLE. 

Every  man  of  the  house  of  Israel  that  setteth  up  his  > 

< idols  in  his  heart,  and  putteth  the  stumbling-block  of  l 
) his  iniquity  before  his  face,  and  cometh  to  the  Prophet,  > 
s 1 the  Lord  will  answer  him  according  to  the  multitude  £ 
? of  his  idols.—  Ezekiel  xiv.  4.  [ First  Morning  Lesson, 

£ Church  oj  England .] 

[Lord,  we  pray  thee,  that  thy  grace  may  always  $ 

< prevent  and  follow  us  ; and  make  us  continually  to  be  < 
? given  to  all  good  works,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  ? 
j Lord,  Jimen.] 

\ Stately  thy  walls,  apd  holy  are  the  prayers 
Which  day  and  night  before  thine  altars  rise; 

| Not  statelier,  towering  o’er  her  marble  stairs, 
Flash’d  Sion’s  gilded  dome  to  summer  skies  ; 

^ Not  holier,  while  around  him  angels  bow’d, 

From  Aaron’s  censer  steam’d  the  spicy  cloud, 

\ Before  the  mercy-seat.  O Mother  dear, 

Wilt  thou  forgive  thy  son  one  boding  sigh ; 
j Forgive,  if  round  thy  towers  he  walk  in  fear, 

And  tell  thy  jewels  o’er  with  jealous  eye  ? 

$ Mindful  of  that  sad  vision,  which  in  thought* 

) From  Chebar’s  plains  the  captive  prophet  brought  i 

] To  see  lost  Sion’s  shame.  ’Twas  morning  prime, 
And,  like  a queen  new-seated  on  her  throne, 

^ God’s  crowned  mountain,  as  in  happier  time, 
Seem’d  to  rejoice  in  sunshine  all  her  own  ; 


* Ezekiel  viii.  3. 


SEVENTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  211*|" 

> So  bright,  while  all  in  shade  around  her  lay, 

' Her  northern  pinnacles  had  caught  th’  emerging  j 

ray. 

! The  dazzling  lines  of  her  majestic  roof 
! Cross’d  with  as  free  a span  the  vault  of  heaven, 

I As  when  twelve  tribes  knelt  silently  aloof, 

Ere  Gon  his  answrer  to  their  king  had  given,* 

I Ere  yet  upon  the  new-built  altar  fell 
; The  glory  of  the  Lord,  the  Lord  of  Israel. 

All  seems  the  same  ; but  enter  in  and  see 
What  idol  shapes  are  on  the  wall  portray’d  ;f 
And  watch  their  shameless  and  unholy  glee, 

Who  worship  there  in  Aaron’s  robes  array’d  : 
Here  Judah’s  maids  the  dirge  to  Thammuz  pour,!  $ 

! And  mark,  her  chiefs  yon  orient  sun  adore.§ 

Yet  turn  thee,  son  of  man — for  worse  than  these  j 
Thou  must  behold ; thy  loathing  were  hut  lost 
! On  dead  men’s  crimes,  and  Jews’  idolatries— 

Come,  learn  to  tell  aright  thine  own  sins’  ] 
cost, — 

> And  sure  their  sin  as  far  from  equals  thine, 

As  earthly  hopes  abused  are  less  than  hopes  \ 

divine. 

| What  if  within  His  world,  His  Church,  our  Lord  \ 
Have  enter’d  thee,  as  in  some  temple  gate, 

I Where,  looking  round,  each  glance  might  thee  \ 
afford 

Some  glorious  earnest  of  thine  high  estate, 

And  thou,  false  heart  and  frail,  hast  turn’d  from  < 
all 

> To  worship  pleasure’s  shadow  on  the  wall  ? 


>212  SEVENTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  ^ 

^ If,  when  the  Lord  of  glory  was  in  sight, 

Thou  turn  thy  back  upon  that  fountain  clear, 

$ To  bow  before  the  “ little  drop  of  light,” 

Which  diin-eyed  men  call  praise  and  glory  ^ 
here ; 

] What  dost  thou,  but  adore  the  sun,  and  scorn 
< llim  at  whose  only  word  both  sun  and  stars  were  £ 
born  ? 

| If,  while  around  thee  gales  from. Eden  breathe, 

) Thou  hide  thine  eyes,  to  make  tliy  peevish  £ 
j moan 

> Over  some  broken  reed  of  earth  beneath, 
l Some  darling  of  blind  fancy  dead  and  gone, 

] As  wisely  might’st  thou  in  Jehovah’s  fane 
I Offer  thy  love  and  tears  toThammuz  slain. 

<j  Turn  thee  from  these,  or  dare  not  to  inquire 
) Of  Him  whose  name  is  Jealous,  lest  in  wrath 
5 He  hear  and  answer  thine  unblest  desire  : 

\ Far  better  we  should  cross  his  lightning’s  path  / 

] Than  be  according  to  our  idols  heard, 

\ And  God  should  take  us  at  our  own  vain  word. 

Thou  who  hast  deign’d  the  Christian’s  heart  to  [ 
call  ; 

Thy  church  and  shrine ; whene’er  our  rebel  \ 
will 

\ Would  in  that  chosen  home  of  thine  install 
Belial  or  Mammon,  grant  us  not  the  ill 
$ We  blindly  ask  ; in  very  love  refuse 
\ Whate’er  thou  know’st  our  weakness  would  \ 
abuse. 


\ Or  rather  help  us,  Lord,  to  choose  the  good, 

To  pray  for  naught,  to  seek  to  none  but  Thee, 


EIGHTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  213  ] 


Nor  by  “our  daily  bread”  mean  common  food, 
Nor  say,  “ From  this  world's  evil  set  us  free 
Teach  us  to  love,  with  Christ,  our  sole  true 
bliss, 

Else,  though  in  Christ’s,  own  words,  we  surely 
pray  amiss. 


EIGHTEENTH  SUNDAY  AETER 
TRINITY. 

THE  CHURCH  IN  THE  WILDERNESS.  I 

I will  bring  you  into  the  wilderness  of  the  people,  5 
and  there  will  I plead  with  you  face  to  face : like  as  1 l 
pleaded  with  your  fathers  in  the  wilderness  of  the  land  > 
of  Egypt,  so  will  1 plead  with  you,  saith  the  Lord  < 
God. — Ezekiel  xx.  35,  36.  [First  Morning  Lesson,  ? 
Church  of  England .J  l 

[Lord,  we  beseech  thee,  grant  thy  people  grace  to  j 
withstand  the  temptations  of  the  world,  the  flesh,  and  $ 
the  devil ; and  with  pure  hearts  and  minds  to  follow  < 
thee,  the  only  God,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  ? 
Amen.']  \ 

It  is  so— ope  thine  eyes,  and  see— 

What  view’st  thou  all  around  ? 

A desert,  where  iniquity  i 

And  knowledge  both  abound.  > 

In  the  waste  howling  wilderness 

The  Church  is  wandering  still,*  ? 

Because  we  would  not  onward  press  \ 

When  close  to  Sion’s  hill.  > 


* Revelation  xii.  14. 


-f 


214  EIGHTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


Back  to  the  world  we  faithless  turn'd, 
And  far  along  the  wild. 

With  labour  lost  and  sorrow  earn'd, 
Our  steps  have  been  beguiled. 

Yet  full  before  us,  all  the  while 
The  shadowing  pillar  stays^ 

The  living  waters  brightly  smile, 

Th’  eternal  turrets  blaze. 

Yet  Heaven  is  raining  angel’s  bread 
To  be  our  daily  food, 

And  fresh,  as  when  it  first  was  shed, 
Springs  forth  the  Saviour’s  blood. 

From  every  region,  race,  and  speech, 
Believing  myriads  throng, 

Till,  far  as  sin  and  sorrow  reach, 

Thy  grace  is  spread  along ; 

Till  sweetest  nature,  brightest  art, 
Their  votive  incense  bring, 

And  every  voice  and  every  heart 

Own  Thee  their  God  and  King. 

All  own,  but  few,  alas!  will  love; 

Too  like  the  recreant  band 
That  with  thy  patient  Spirit  strove 
Upon  the  Red-sea  strand. 

Oh  Father  of  long-suffering  grace, 
Thou  who  hast  sworn  to  stay 
Pleading  with  sinners  face  to  face 
Through  all  their  devious  way : 

How  shall  we  speak  to  Thee,  O Lord, 
Or  how  in  silence  lie  ? 

Look  on  us,  and  we  are  abhorr’d, 
Turn  from  us,  and  we  die. 


EIGHTEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  215 


•+ 


Thy  guardian  fire,  thy  guiding  cloud, 

Still  let  them  gild  our  wall. 

Nor  be  our  foes  and  thine  allow’d 
To  see  us  faint  and  fall. 

Too  oft,  within  this  camp  of  thine, 

Rebellious  murmurs  rise  ; 

Sin  cannot  bear  to  see  Thee  shine 
So  awful  to  her  eyes. 

Fain  would  our  lawless  hearts  escape. 

And  with  the  heathen  be, 

To  worship  every  monstrous  shape 
In  fancied  darkness  free.* 

Vain  thought,  that  shall  not  be  at  all  ! 

Refuse  we  or  obey, 

Our  ears  have  heard  tti’  Almighty’s  call, 

We  cannot  be  as  they. 

We  cannot  hope  the  heathen’s  doom, 

To  whom  God’s  Son  is  given, 

Whose  eyes  have  seen  beyond  the  tomb, 

Who  have  the  key  of  heaveja. 

Weak  tremblers  on  the  edge  of  wo, 

Vet  shrinking  from  true  bliss, 

Our  rest  must  be  “ no  rest  below,” 

And  let  our  prayer  be  this : 

“ Lord,  wave  again  thy  chastening  rod, 

Till  every  idol  throne 
Crumble  to  dust,  and  Thou,  O God, 

Reign  in  our  hearts  alone. 

* Ezekiel  xx.  32.  That  which  cometh  into  your  \ 
mind  shall  not  be  at  all,  that  ye  say,  We  will  be  as  the  ) 

, heathen,  as  the  families  of  the  countries,  to  serve  wood  ( 

) and  stone.  > 

4- -4- 


>216  NINETEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

I Bring  all  our  wandering  fancies  home, 

) For  thou  hast  every  spell, 

I And  ’mid  the  heathen  where  they  roam, 

| Thou  knowest,  Lord,  too  well. 

( Thou  know’st  our  service  sad  and  hard, 

\ Thou  know’st  us  fond  and  frail  ; — 

Win  us  to  be  beloved  and  spared 
When  all  the  world  shall  fail. 

So  when  at  last  our  weary  days 
Are  well-nigh  wasted  here, 

And  we  can  trace  thy  wondrous  ways 
In  distance  calm  and  clear, 

When  in  thy  love  and  Israel’s  sin 
We  read  our  story  true, 

We  may  not,  all  too  late,  begin 
To  wish  our  hopes  were  new  : 

Long  loved,  long  tried,  long  spared  as  they, 
Unlike  in  this  alone, 

That,  by  thy  grace,  our  hearts  shall  stay 
For  evermore  thine  own.” 


NINETEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 

SHADRACH,  MESHACH,  AND  ABEDNEGO. 

Then  Nebuchadnezzar  the  king  was  astonished,  and  [ 
? rose  up  in  haste,  and  spake,  an^  said  unto  his  counsel-  ^ 
5 lors.  Did  we  not  cast  three  men  bound  into  the  midst  l 
> of  the  fire?  They  answered  and  said  unto  the  king,  > 
) True,  O king.  He  answered  and  said,  Lo,  I see  four  s 
< men  loose,  walking  in  the  midst,  of  the  fire,  and  they  ? 
? have  no  hurt;  and  the  form  of  the  fourth  is  like  the  S 
[ Son  of  God. — Daniel  iii.  24,  25.  [First  Morning  ( 
\ Lesson , Church  of  England .]  ■ 


NINETEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  217  < 

[O  God,  forasmuch  as  without  thee  we  are  not  able  l 
^ to  please  thee;  mercifully  grant  thpt  thy  Holy  Spirit  > 
} may  in  all  things  direct  and  rule  our  hearts,  through 
\ Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen .] 

When  persecution’s  torrent  blaze 
Wraps  the  unshrinking  martyr’s  head  ; 

When  fade  all  earthly  flowers  and  bays, 

When  summer  friends  are  gone  and  fled, 

Is  he  alone  in  that  dark  hour 

Who  owns  the  Lord  of  love  and  power  ? 

Or  waves  there  not  around  his  brow 
A wand  no  human  arm  may  wield, 

Fraught  with  a^  spell  no  angels  know, 

His  steps  to  guide,  his  soul  to  shield? 

Thou,  Saviour,  art  his  charmed  bower, 

His  magic  ring,  his  rock,  his  tower. 

And  when  the  wicked  ones  behold 
Thy  favourites  walking  in  thy  light, 

Just  as,  in  fancied  triumph  bold, 

They  deem’d  them  lost  in  deadly  night, 
Amazed  thdy  cry,  “ What  spell  is  this, 

Which  turns  their  sufferings  all  to  bliss? 

How  are  they  free  whom  we  had  bound, 

Upright,  whom  in  the  gulf  we  cast  ? 

What  wondrous  helper  have  they  found 
To  screen  them  from  the  scorching  blast? 
Three  were  they— Who  hath  made  them  four?^ 
And  sure  a form  divine  he  wore, 

Even  like  the  Son  of  God.”  So  cried 
The  tyrant,  when  in  one  fierce  flame 
The  martyrs  lived,  the  murderers  died ; 

Yet  knew  he  not  what  angel  came 


218  NINETEENTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY'. 


To  make  the  rushing  fire-flood  seem 
Like  summer  breeze  by  woodland  stream.* 

He  knew  not,  but  there  are  who  know: 

The  matron,  who  alone  hath  stood, 

When  not  a prop  seem’d  left  below, 

The  first  lorn  hour  of  widowhood. 

Yet  cheer’d  and  cheering  all,  the  while, 
With  sad  but  unaffected  smile  ; — 

The  father,  who  his  vigil  keeps 
By  the  sad  couch  whence  hope  hath  flown, 
Watching  the  eye  where  reason  sleeps, 

Yet  in  his  heart  can  mercy  own, 

Still  sweetly  yielding  to  the  rod, 

Still  loving  man,  still  thanking  God;  — 

The  Christian  paster,  bow’d  to  earth 
With  thankless  toil,  and  vile  esteem’d, 
Still  travailing  in  second  birth 
Of  souls  that  will  not  be  redeem’d, 

Yet  steadfast  set  to  do  his  part, 

And  fearing  most  his  own  vain  heart ; — 

These  know  : on  these  look  long  and  well, 
Cleansing  thy  sight  by  prayer  and  faith, 
And  thou  shalt  know  what  secret  spell 
Preserves  them  in  their  living  death  : 
Through  sevenfold  flames  thine  eye  shall  see 
The  Saviour  walking  with  his  faithful  three. 


\ * Song  of  the  Three  Children,  ver.  27.  “And  made 

< the  midst  of  the  furnace  as  it  had  been  a moist  whist-  \ 
| ling  wind,  [so  that  the  fire  touched  them  not  at  all, 
neither  hurt  nor  troubled  them.’’] 


TWENTIETH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  219  < 


TWENTIETH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 


MOUNTAIN  SCENERY. 

Hear  ye,  O mountains,  the  Lord’s  controversy,  and  ] 
; ye  strong  foundations  of  the  earth.  — Micah.  vi.  2.  \ 

> L First  Evening  Lesson , Church  of  England .] 

[O  Almighty  and  most  merciful  God,  of  thy  bounti- 
? ful  goodness  keep  us,  we  beseech  thee,  from  all  things  ) 
that  may  hurt  us;  that  we,  being  ready  both  in  body  ; 
and  soul,  may  cheerfully  accomplish  those  things  which  ? 
thou  commandest,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 
Amen .] 

; Where  is  thy  favour’d  haunt,  eternal  Voice, 

The  region  of  thy  choice, 

\ Where,  undisturb’d  by  sin  and  earth,  the  soul 
Owns  thine  entire  control  ? — 

> ’Tis  on  the  mountain’s  summit  dark  and  high, 
When  storms  are  hurrying  by  : 

\ ’Tis  ’mid  the  strong  foundations  of  the  earth, 
Where  torrents  have  their  birth. 

; No  sounds  of  worldly  toil  ascending  there, 

Mar  the  full  burst  of  prayer; 

Lone  Nature  feels  that  she  may  freely  breathe, 
And  round  us  and  beneath 
’ Are  heard  her  sacred  tones : the  fitful  sweep 
Of  winds  across  the  steep, 

! Through  wither’d  bents— romantic  note  and  clear,  \ 
Meet  for  a hermit’s  ear, — 

The  wheeling  kite’s  wild,  solitary  cry, 

And,  scarcely  heard  so  high, 

! The  dashing  waters  when  the  air  is  still, 
l From  many  a torrent  rill 


4- — — 

$ 220  TWENTIETH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


> That  winds  unseen  beneath  the  shaggy  fell, 

Track’d  by  the  blue  mist  well : 
i Such  sounds  as  make  deep  silence  in  the  heart, 
For  thought  to  do  her  part. 

’T  is  then  we  hear  the  voice  of  God  within, 
Pleading  with  care  and  sin  : 

\ “Child  of  my  love  ! how  have  I wearied  thee? 

Why  wilt  thou  err  from  me  ? 

] Have  I not  brought  thee  from  the  house  of  slaves,  \ 
Parted  the  drowning  waves, 

$ And  set  my  saints  before  thee  in  the  way, 

<>  Lest  thou  should’st  faint  or  stray  ? 

? What ! was  the  promise  made  to  thee  alone? 

> Art  thou  th’  excepted  one? 

$ An  heir  of  glory  without  grief  or  pain  ? 
jj  O vision  false  and  vain  ! 

< There  lies  thy  cross  ; beneath  it  meekly  bow  ; 

< It  fits  thy  stature  now : 

< Who  scornful  pass  it  with  averted  eyej 

$ ’T  will  crush  them  by  and  by. 

< Raise  thy  repining  eyes,  and  take  true  measure  I 

I*  Of  thine  eternal  treasure; 

i The  Father  of  thy  Lord  can  grudge  thee  naught,  ; 
? The  world  for  thee  was  bought : 

> And  as  this  landscape  broad— earth,  sea,  and  j 

> sky, — j 

All  centres  in  thine  eye, 

j!So  all  God  does,  if  rightly  understood, 

Shall  work  thy  fina.1  good.”  \ 


TWENTY-FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  221  I 


TWENTY-FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 

THE  RED-BREAST  IN  SEPTEMBER. 

The  vision  is  yet  for  an  appointed  time;  but  at  the 
5 end  it  shall  speak  and  not  lie;  though  it  tarry,  wait  for 

> it,  because  it  will  surely  come,  it  will  not  tarry. — Ha- 
\ balckuk  ii.  3.  [ First  Morning  Lesson,  Church  of 

' England.  ] < 

, [Grant,  we  beseech  thee,  merciful  Lord,  to  thy  faith-  s 
i ful  people,  pardon  and  peace ; that  they  may  be  £ 
! cleansed  from  all  their  sins,  and  serve  thee  with  a quiet  > 
; mind,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Jlmen.] 

The  morning  mist  is  clear’d  away, 

Yet  still  the  face  of  heaven  is  gray, 

; Nor  yet  th’  autumnal  breeze  has  stirr’d  the  grove  ; 
Faded  yet  full,  a paler  green 
Skirts  soberly  the  tranquil  scene, 

| The  red-breast  warbles  round  this  leafy  cove. 

Sweet  messenger  of  “ calm  decaty,” 

Saluting  sorrow  as  you  may, 

! As  one  still  bent  to  find  or  make  the  best, 

In  thee  and  in  this  quiet  mead 
The  lesson  of  sweet  peace  I read, 

> Rather  in  all  to  be  resign’d  than  blest. 

’Tis  a low  chant,  according  well 
With  the  soft  solitary  knell. 

As  homeward  from  some  grave  beloved  we  turn, 
Or  by  some  holy  death-bed  dear, 

Most  welcome  to  the  chasten’d  ear 

> Of  her  whom  Heaven  is  teaching  how  to  mourn.  ! 


+- 


( 222  TWENTY-FIRST  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

O cheerful,  tender  strain  ! the  heart 
That  only  bears  with  you  its  part, 

| Singing  so  thankful  to  the  dreary  blast. 

Though  gone  and  spent  its  joyous  prime, 

Arid  on  the  world’s  autumnal  time, 

^ ’Mid  wither’d  hues  and  sere,  its  lot  be  cast : 

That  is  the  heart  for  thoughtful  seer, 
Watching,  in  trance  nor  dark  nor  clear,* 

£ Th’  appalling  future  as  it  nearer  draws; 

His  spirit  calm’d  the  storm  to  meet. 

Feeling  the  rock  beneath  his  feet, 
f And  tracing  through  the  cloud  th’  eternal  Cause. 

That  is  the  heart  for  watchman  true 
Waiting  to  see  what  God  will  do, 

\ As  o’er  the  Church  the  gathering  twilight  falls  ; 


* Zechariah  xiv.  6.  It  shall  come  to  pass  in  that 

< day,  that  the  night  shall  not  be  clear  nor  dark. 

< Note.— The  expression,  “calm  decay,”  is  borrowed 
5 from  a friend  : by  whose  kind  permission  the  following 
5 stanzas  are  here  inserted  : 

TO  THE  RED-BREAST. 

Unheard  in  summer’s  flaring  ray. 

Pour  forth  thy  notes,  sweet  singer. 

Wooing  the  stillness  of  the  autumn  day: 

Bid  it  a moment  linger. 

Nor  fly 

Too  soon  from  winter’s  scowling  eye. 

The  blackbird’s  song  at  eventide, 

And  her’s  who  gay  ascends,* 

Filling  the  heavens  far  and  wide, 

Are  sweet.  But  none  so  blends 
As  thine, 

With  calm  decay,  and  peace  divine. 


; [The  sky-lark.] 


4- 


\ TWENTY-SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  223  j 

No  more  he  strains  his  wistful  eye,  £ 

If  chance  the  golden  hours  be  nigh, 

> By  youthful  Hope  seen  beaming  round  her  walls.  I 
Forced  from  his  shadowy  paradise, 

His  thoughts  to  heaven  the  steadier  rise  ; 

\ There  seek  his  answer  when  the  world  reproves  ; £ 
Contented  in  his  darkling  round, 

If  only  he  be  faithful  found, 

When  from  the  east  th’  eternal  morning  moves. 


TWENTY-SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 

THE  RULE  OF  CHRISTIAN  FORGIVENESS. 

Lord,  how  oft  shall  my  brother  sin  against  me,  and 
\ I forgive  him  1— St.  Matthew  xviii.  21.  [Gospel  for 

> the  Dap.'] 

[Lord,  we  beseech  thee  to  keep  thy  household  the 

> Church  in  continual  godliness;  that,  through  thy  pro- 
? tection,  it  may  be  free  from  all  adversities,  and  de- 
$ voutly  given  to  serve  thee  in  good  works,  to  the 
{ glory  of  thy  name,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord. 

> Amen.] 

What  liberty  so  glad  and  gay 
As  where  the  mountain  boy, 

Reckless  of  regions  far  away, 

A prisoner  lives  in  joy  7 
The  dreary  sounds  of  crowded  earth, 

The  cries  of  camp  or  town, 

Never  untuned  his  lonely  mirth, 

Nor  drew  his  visions  down. 

The  snow-clad  peaks  of  rosy  light 
That  meet  his  morning  view, 

The  thwarting  cliffs  that  bound  his  sight, 

They  bound  his  fancy  too. 


T 224  TWENTY-SECOND  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. "f" 


Two  ways  alone  his  roving  eye 
For  aye  may  onward  go, 

Or  in  the  azure  deep  on  high, 

Or  darksome  here  below. 

O blest  restraint ! more  blessed  range  ! 

Too  soon  the  happy  child 
His  nook  of  homely  thought  will  change 
For  life’s  seducing  wild  : 

Too  soon  his  alter’d  day-dreams  show 
This  earth  a boundless  space, 

With  sun-bright  pleasures  to  and  fro 
Sporting  in  joyous  face; 

While  of  his  narrowing  heart  each  year 
Heaven  less  and  less  will  fill, 

Less  keenly,  through  his  grosser  ear, 

The  tones  of  mercy  thrill. 

It  must  be  so  : else  wherefore  falls 
The  Saviour’s  voice  unheard, 

While  from  His  pardoning  cross  He  calls, 

“ O spare  as  I have  spared?” 

By  our  own  niggard  rule  we  try 
The  hope  to  suppliants  given  ; 

We  mete  our  love,  as  if  our  eye 
Saw  to  the  end  of  heaven. 

Yes,  ransom’d  sinner!  would’st  thou  know 
How  often  to  forgive. 

How  dearly  to  embrace  thy  foe, 

Look  where  thou  hopest  to  live: 

When  thou  hast  told  those  isles  of  light, 
And  fancied  all  beyond, 

Whatever  owns,  in  depth  or  height, 
Creation’s  wondrous  bond; 


j TWENTY-THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  225  \ 

Then  in  their  solemn  pageant  learn 
Sweet  mercy’s  praise  to  see  : 

Their  Lord  resign’d  them  all,  to  earn 
The  bliss  of  pardoning  thee. 


TWENTY-THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 

THE  FOREST  LEAVES  IN  AUTUMN. 

Who  shall  change  our  vile  body,  that  it  may  be  ? 
[ fashioned  like  unto  His  glorious  body,  according  to  ; 
\ the  working  wh/ereby  He  is  able  even  to  subdue  all  < 

> things  unto  himself.  Philippians  iii.  21.  Epistle  for  ? 
\ the  Day.] 

, [O  God,  our  refuge  and  strength,  who  art  the  author  S 

> of  all  godliness ; be  ready,  we  beseech  thee,  to  hear  $ 
£ the  devout  prayers  of  thy  Church;  and  grant  that  < 

those  things  which  we  ask  faithfully,  we  may  obtain  4 
y effectually,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

\ Red  o’er  the  forest  peers  the  setting  sun  ; 

> The  line  of  yellow  light  dies  fast  away 

> That  crown’d  the  eastern  copse ; and  chill  and  \ 

dun 

Falls  on  the  moor  the  brief  November  day. 

! Now  the  tired  hunter  winds  a parting  note, 

And  Echo  bids  good  night  from  every  glade  ; 

! Yet  wait  awhile,  and  see  the  calm  leaves  float 
Each  to  his  rest  beneath  their  parent  shade. 

; How  like  decaying  life  they  seem  to  glide ! 

And  yet  no  second  spring  have  they  in  store, 

; But  where  they  fall,  forgotten  to  abide, 

Is  all  their  portion,  and  they  ask  no  more. 


15 


226  TWENTY-THIRD  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  \ 

Soon  o’er  their  heads  blithe  April  airs  shall  sing,  > 
) A thousand  wild  flowers  round  them  shall  un-  j 
fold, 

> The  green  buds  glisten  in  the  dews  of  spring, 

And  all  be  vernal  rapture  as  of  old. 
j Unconscious  they  in  waste  oblivion  lie; 
t In  all  the  world  of  busy  life  around 
| No  thought,  of  them  ; in  all  the  bounteous  sky 
No  drop,  for  them,  of  kindly  influence  found. 

! Man’s  portion  is  to  die  and  rise  again — 

Yet  he  complains,  while  these  unmurmuring  \ 
part  ( 

; With  their  sweet  lives,  as  pure  from  sin  and  j 
stain, 

As  his  when  Eden  held  his  virgin  heart. 

> And,  haply,  half-unblamed  his  murmuring  voice  $ 

Might  sound  in  heaven,  were  all  his  second  life  \ 
! Only  the  first  renew’d— the  heathen’s  choice, 

A round  of  listless  joy  dnd  weary  strife. 

; For  dreary  were  this  earth,  if  earth  were  all, 

Though  brighten’d  oft  by  dear  affection’s  kiss;—  I 
' Who  for  the  spangles  wears  the  funeral  pall  ? 

But  catch  a gleam  beyond  it,  and  ’tis  bliss. 

; Heavy  and  dull  this  frame  of  limbs  and  heart, 
Whether  slow  creeping  on  cold  earth,  or  borne  £ 

> On  lofty  steed,  or  loftier  prow,  we  dart 

O’er  wave  or  field ; yet  breezes  laugh  to  scorn 

! Our  puny  speed,,  and  birds,  and  clouds  in  heaven,  $ 
And  fish,  like  living  shafts  that  pierce  the  > 
main,  < 

And  stars  that  shoot  through  freezing  air  at  \ 
even — ' \ 

Who  but  would  follow,  might  he  break  his  £ 
chain  ? 


XXIVTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  227  \ 

l And  thou  shalt  break  it  soon;  the  grovelling 
worm 

Shall  find  his  wings,  and  soar  as  fast  and  free 

> As  his  transfigured  Lord  with  lightning  form 

And  snowy  vest— such  grace  He  won  for  thee. 

\ When  from  the  grave  he  sprung  at  dawn  of  morn,  J 
And  led  through  boundless  air  thy  conquering-  i 
road,  ; 

? Leaving  a glorious  track,  where  saints  new-born  ; 
Might  fearless  follow  to  their  blest  abode. 

i But  first,  by  many  a stern  and  fiery  blast 

> The  world’s  rude  furnace  must  thy  blood  refine, 

! And  many  a gale  of  keenest  wo  be  pass’d, 

Till  every  pulse  beat  true  to  airs  divine, 

s Till  every  limb  obey  the  mounting  soul, 

< The  mounting  soul,  the  call  by  Jesus  given. 

£ He  who  the  stormy  heart  can  so  control, 

* The  laggard  body  soon  will  waft  to  heaven. 


TWENTY-FOURTH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY. 


IMPERFECTION  OF  HUMAN  SYMPATHY. 

The  heart  knoweth  his  own  bitterness,  and  a stranger  J 
5 doth  not  intermeddle  with  his  joy.' — Proverbs  xiv.  10.  ; 
[ First  Evening  Lesson,  Church  of  England  ] 

) [ O Lord,  we  beseech  thee,  absolve  thy  people  from  ] 

s their  offences;  that  through  thy  bountiful  goodness,  i 
( we  may  all  be  delivered  from  the  bands  of  those  sins  \ 

> which  by  our  frailty  we  have  committed.  Grant  this, 

< O heavenly  Father,  for  Jesus  Christ’s  sake,  our  bless- 

> ed  Lord  and  Saviour.  Amen.] 


j 228  XXIVTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 

5 Why  should  we  faint  and  fear  to  live  alone, 

| Since  all  alone,  so  Heaven  has  will’d,  we  die,*  ] 
< Nor  even  the  tenderest  heart,  and  next  our  own, 

\ Knows  half  the  reasons  why  we  smile  and  sigh  ? j 

Each  in  his  hidden  sphere  of  joy  or  wo 
Our  hermit  spirits  dwell,  and  range  apart; 

^ Our  eyes  see  all  around,  in  gloom  or  glow, 

Hues  of  their  own,  fresh  borrow’d  from  the  ^ 
heart. 

\ And  well  it  is  for  us  our  God  should  feel 
Alone  our  secret  throbbings  : so  our  prayer 
\ May  readier  spring  to  Heaven,  nor  spend  its  zeal  £ 
On  cloud-born  idols  of  this  lower  air. 

j For  if  one  heart  in  perfect  sympathy 

Beat  with  another,  answering  love  for  love, 

| Weak  mortals  all  entranced  on  earth  would  lie, 
Nor  listen  for  those  purer  strains  above. 

| Or  what  if  Heaven  for  once  its  searching  light 
Lent  to  some  partial  eye,  disclosing  all 
l The  rude  bad  thoughts,  that  in  our  bosom’s  night  $ 
Wander  at  large,  nor  heed  love’s  gentle  thrall  ? s 


s * Je  mourrai  seul.  Pascal.  [The  entire  passage  is  s 
as  follows  : “ Pour  moi,  je  n’ai  pu  m’y  arreter  ni  me  ( 
? reposer  dans  la  socicte  do  cos  personnes  semblables  a / 
5 moi,  miserables  comme  moi.  Jevoisqu’ils  ne  m’aide-  s 

< roient  pas  a mourir,  je  mourrai  seul  ; i)  faut  done  faire  l 
> comme  si  j’etais  seul ; ou,  si,j’etois  seul  je  ne  batirois  > 

< point  des  maisons,  je  ne  m’embarrasserois  point  dans  ( 
\ ies occupations  tumultuaires,  je  ne  chercherois  I’estime  ? 
5 de  personne ; mais  je  tacherois  seulement  de  couvrir  ) 

< la  verite.” — Pensees,  c.  viii.  sec.  1.] 


$ XXIVTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  229  \ 

S’  Who  would  not  shun  the  dreary  uncouth  place  ? 

? As  if,  fond  leaning  where  her  infant  slept, 

> A mother’s  arm  a serpent  should  embrace  : 

5 So  might  we  friendless  live,  and  die  unwept. 

\ Then  keep  the  softening  veil  in  mercy  drawn, 

\ Thou  who  canst  love  us,  though  thou  read  us  \ 

< true; 

l As  on  the  bosom  of  th’  aerial  lawn 

Melts  in  dim  haze  each  coarse  ungentle  hue. 

) So  too  may  soothing  Hope  thy  leave  enjoy 

> Sweet  visions  of  long  sever’d  hearts  to  frame  ; 

5 Though  absence  may  impair,  or  cares  annoy, 

l Some  constant  mind  may  draw  us  still  the  same.  \ 

< We  in  dark  dreams  are  tossing  to  and  fro, 

\ Pine  with  regret,  or  sicken  with  despair, 
i;  The  while  she  bathes  us  in  her  own  chaste  glow,  £ 

And  with  our  memory  wings  her  own  fond  S’ 
prayer. 

] O bliss  of  child-like  innocence,  and  love 
Tried  to  old  age!  creative  power  to  win, 

£ And  raise  new  worlds,  where  happy  fancies  rove, 
Forgetting  quite  this  grosser  world  of  sin. 

> Bright  are  their  dreams,  because  their  thoughts  \ 

are  clear,  > 

Their  memory  cheering  ; but  the  earth-stain’d  > 
sprite, 

\ Whose  wakeful  musings  are  of  guilt  and  fear, 
Must  hover  nearer  earth,  and  less  in  light. 

\ Farewell,  for  her,  the  ideal  scenes  so  fair— 

Yet  not  farewell  her  hope,  since  Thou  hast  <; 
deign’d, 

{ Creator  of  all  hearts  ! to  own  and  share 

The  wo  of  what  Thou  madest,  and  we  have  ^ 
stain’d. 


230  XXVTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY. 


] Thou  know’st  our  bitterness— our  joys  are  thine  ;*  \ 
No  stranger  Thou  to  all  our  wanderings  wild; 

] Nor  could  we  bear  to  think,  how  every  line 
Of  us,  thy  darken’d  likeness  and  defiled, 

\ Stands  in  full  sunshine  of  thy  piercing  eye, 

; But  that  thou  call’st  us  brethren : sweet  repose 
| Is  in  that  word— the  Lord  who  dwells  on  high 
Knows  all,  yet  loves  us  better  than  He  knows. 


TWENTY-FIFTH  SUNDAY  AFTER 
TRINITY-. 

THE  TWO  RAINBOWS. 

The  hoary  head  is  a crown  of  glory,  if  it  be  found 
in  the  way  of  righteousness. — Proverbs  xvi.  31.  [ First 
Evening  Lesson , Church  of  England .] 

[Stir  up,  we  beseech  thee,  O Lord,  the  wills  of  thy  £ 
! faithful  people  ; that  they,  plenteously  bringing  forth  ; 
/ the  fruit  of  good  works,  may  by  thee  be  plenteously  S 
£ rewarded,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

The  bright-hair’d  morn  is  glowing 
O’er  emerald  meadows  gay, 

With  many  a clear  gem  strowing 
The  early  shepherd’s  way. 

Ye  gentle  elves,  by  fancy  seen 
Stealing  away  with  night 
To  slumber  in  your  leafy  screen, 

Tread  more  than  airy  light. 


* Psalm  xxxi.  7.  Thou  hast  known  my  soul  in  ad- 
{ versifies.  ^ 


XXVTH  SUNDAY  AFTER  TRINITY.  231  j 

And  see  what,  joyous  greeting 

The  sun  through  heaven  has  shed; 
Though  fast  yon  shower  be  fleeting, 

His  beams  have  faster  sped, 

For  lo!  above  the  western  haze 
High  towers  the  rainbow  arch 
In  solid  span  of  purest  rays  : 

How  stately  is  its  march ! 

Pride  of  the  dewy  morning! 

The  swain’s  experienced  eye 
From  thee  takes  timely  warning,* 

Nor  trusts'  the  gorgeous  sky  ; 

For  well  he  knows,  such  dawnings  gay 
Bring  noons  of  storm  and  showej, 

And  travellers  linger  on  the  way 
Beside  the  sheltering  bower. 

Even  so,  in  hope  and  trembling, 

Should  watchful  shepherd  view 
His  little  lambs  assembling, 

With  glance  both  kind  and  true; 

’Tis  not  the  eye  of  keenest  blaze, 

Nor  the  quick-swelling  breast 
That  soonest  thrills  at  touch  of  praise— 
These  do  not  please  him  best. 

But  voices  lowr  and  gentle, 

And  timid  glances  shy, 

That  seem  for  aid  parental 
To  sue  all  wistfully, 

Still  pressing,  longing  to  be  right, 

Yet  fearing  to  be  wrong— 

In  these  the  pastor  dares  delight, 

A lamb-like,  Christ-like  throng. 


* [The  rainbow  in  the  morning 

Is  the  sailor’s  warning.  Old  proverb .] 


These  in  life’s  distant  even 
Shall  shine  serenely  bright, 

As  in  th’  autumnal  heaven 
Mild  rainbow  tints  at  night, 

When  the  last  shower  is  stealing  down, 
And  ere  they  sink  to  rest. 

The  sun-beams  weave  a parting  crown 
For  some  sweet  woodland  nest. 

The  promise  of  the  morrow 
Is  glorious  on  that  eve,* 

Dear  as  the  holy  sorrow 
When  good  men  pease  to  liVe; 

When,  brightening  ere  it  die  away, 
Mounts  up  their  altar  flame, 

Still  tending  with  intenser  ray 
To  heaven,  whence  first  it  came. 

Say  not  it  dies,  that  glory,— 

’T  is  caught  unquench’d  on  high ; 
Those  saint-like  brows  so  hoary 
Shall  wear  it  in  the  sky. 

No  smile  is  like  the  smile  of  death. 
When  all  good  musings  past 
Rise  wafted  with  the  parting  breath, 
The  sweetest  thought  the  fast. 


SUNDAY  NEXT  BEFORE  ADVENT. 


SELF-EXAMINATION  BEFORE  ADVENT. 

, Gather  up  the  fragments  that  remain,  that  nothing  5 
> be  lost. — St.  John  vi.  12.  [Gospel  for  the  Day.]  b 


* [The  rainbow  at  night 
Is  the  sailor’s  delight. 


Old  proverb .] 


[Stir  up,  we  beseech  thee,  O Lord,  the  wills  of  thy  \ 
5 faithful  people;  that  they,  plenteousiy  bringing  forth  l 
< the  fruit  of  good  works,  may  by  thee  be  plenteousiy  $ 
\ rewarded,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Will  God  indeed  with  fragments  bear, 
Snatch’d  late  from  the  decaying  year? 

Or  can  the  Saviour’s  blood  endear 
The  dregs  of  a polluted  life? 

When  down  th’  o’erwhelming  current  toss’d, 
Just  ere  he  sink,  for  ever  lost, 

The  sailor’s  untried  arms  are  cross’d 
^ In  agonizing  prayer,  will  ocean  cease  her  strife?  | 

Sighs  that  exhaust  but  not  relieve, 
Heart-rending  sighs,  oh,  spare  to  heave 
A bosom  freshly  taught  to  grieve 

For  lavish’d  hours  and  love  misspent ! 

Now  through  her  round  of  holy  thought 
The  Church  our  annual  steps  lias  brought, 

But  We  no  holy  fire  have  caught — 

| Back  on  the  gaudy  world  our  wilful  eyes  were  \ 
bent. 

Too  soon  th’  ennobling  carols,  pour’d 
To  hymn  the  birth-night  of  the  Lord,* 

Which  duteous  memory  should  have  stored 
For  thankful  echoing  all  the  year  — 

Too  soon  those  airs  have  pass’d  away; 

Nor  long  within  the  heart  would  stay 
The  silence  of  Christ’s  dying  day,f 
| Profaned  by  worldly  mirth,  or  scared  by  worldly  \ 
fear. 

Some  strain  of  hope  and  victory 
On  Easter  wings  might  lift  us  high; 

A little  while  we  sought  the  sky  : 


* [Christmas.] 


t [Good  Friday.] 


And  when  the  Spirit’s  beacon  fires* 

On  every  hill  began  to  blaze, 

Lightening  the  world  with  glad  amaze, 

Who  but  must  kindle  while  they  gaze  ? 

\ But  faster  than  she  soars,  our  earth-bound  fancy  \ 
tires. 

Nor  yet  for  these,  nor  all  the  rites 
By  which  our  Mother’s  voice  invites 
Our  God  to  bless  our  home  delights, 

And  sweeten  every  secret  tear  ; — 

The  funeral  dirge,  the  marriage  vow, 

The  hallow’d  font  where  parents  bow, 

And  now  elate  and  trembling  now 
] To  the  Redeemer’s  feet  their  new-found  treasures  [ 
bear  : 

Not  for  the  pastor’s  gracious  arm 
Stretch’d  out  to  bless— a Christian  charm 
To  dull  the  shafts  of  worldly  harm  : — 

Nor,  sweetest,  holiest,  best  of  all, 

For  the  dear  feast  of  Jesus  dying, 

Upon  that  altar  ever  lying, 

Where  souls  with  sacred  hunger  sighing 
j Are  call’d  to  sit  and  eat,  while  angels  prostrate  } 
fall ; — 


No,  not  for  each  and1  all  of  these 
Have  our  frail  spirits  found  their  ease. 

The  gale  that  stirs  th’  autumnal  trees 
Seems  tuned  as  truly  to  our  hearts 
As  when,  twelve  weary  months  ago, 

’Twas  moaning  bleak,  so  high  and  low, 

You  would  have  thought  remorse  and  wo 
J Had  taught  the  innocent  air  their  sadly  thrilling  j 
parts. 

* [Whitsunday.] 


SUNDAY  NEXT  BEFORE  ADVENT.  235  { 

Is  it,  Christ’s  light  is  too  divine, 

We  dare  not  hope  like  Him  to  shine? 

But  see,  around  His  dazzling  shrine 

Earth’s  gems  the  fire  of  Heaven  have  \ 
caught ; 

Martyrs  and  saints— each  glorious  day 
Dawning  in  order  on  our  way— 

Remind  us,  how  our  darksome  clay 
! May  keep  th’ ethereal  warmth  our  new  Creator  | 
brought. 

These  we  have  scorn’d,  O false  and  frail  ! 

And  now  once  more  th’  appalling  tale, 

How  love  divine  may  woo  and  fail, 

Of  our  lost  year  in  heaven  is  t6ld — 

What  if  as  far  our  life  were  past, 

Our  weeks  all  number’d  to  the  last, 

With  time  and  hope  behind  us  cast, 

! And  all  our  work  to  do  with  palsied  hands  and  { 
cold  ? 


O watch  and  pray  ere  Advent  dawn! 

For  thinner  than  the  subtlest  lawn 
’Twixt  thee  and  death  the  veil  is  drawn. 

But  love  too  late  can  never  glow  : 

The  scatter’d  fragments  love  can  glean, 

Refine  the  dregs,  and  yield  us  clean 
To  regions  where  one  thought  serene 
| Breathes  sweeter  than  whole  years  of  sacrifice  \ 
below. 


; 236 


st.  Andrew’s  day. 


ST.  ANDREW’S'  DAY.* 

[NOVEMBER  30.] 

He  first  findeth  his  own  brother  Simon,  and  saith  > 
I unto  him,  We  have  found  the  Messias ; and  he  < 
\ brought  him  unto  Jesus.  St.  John  i.  41,  42. 

[Almighty  God,  who  didst  give  such  grace  unto  thy  \ 

> holy  Apostle  Saint  Andrew,  that  he  readily  obeyed  l 

> the  calling  of  thy  Sun  Jesus  Christ,  and  followed  him  5 

> without  delay  ; grant  unto  us  all,  that  we,  being  called  < 

> by  thy  holy  word,  may  forthwith  give  up  ourselves  1 

> obediently  to  fulfil  thy  holy  commandments,  through  S 
| the  same,  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

When  brothers  part  for  manhood’s  race, 

What  gift  may  most  endearing  prove 
To  keep  fond  memory  in  her  place, 

And  certify  a brother’s  love  7 


* [St,  Andrew  was  a native  of  Bethsaida,  in  Gali- 
! lee.  He  was  the  son  of  a fisherman  named  Jonas, 

; and  the  brother  of  Simon,  sumamed  Peter.  He  had 
i been  the  disciple  of  John  the  Baptist,  and  was  one  of 
; the  two  to  whom  John  pointed  out  the  Saviour  as 
1 “ the  Lamb  of  God,  who  taketh  away  the  sins  of  the 
\ world.”  It  was  his  happiness  to  introduce  his  more 
; illustrious  brother,  the  apostle  Peter,  to  the  knowledge 

> of  Jesus:  hence  sometimes  called,  in  reference  to 
! Peter’s  emblematic  name,  “ the  rock  before  the  rock.” 

> He  was  ordained  an  apostle  by  our  Lord.  It  is  said 

> that  Scythia  was  chiefly  the  field  of  his  labours ; and 
J that  the  instrument  of  his  martyrdom  was  a cross  of 

a peculiar  form  (X),  known  as  St.  Andrew’s  Cross. 
The  Scotch,  who  chose  him  as  their  patron  saint,  had 
[ a tradition  that  his  remains  were  brought  to  St.  An- 
drews, A.  D.  368,  and  entombed  there.  The  festival 
\ of  St.  Andrew  determines  the  beginning  of  the  season  > 


3T.  Andrew’s  day.  237  ] 

’T  is  true,  bright  hours  together  told, 

And  blissful  dreams  in  secret  shared, 

Serene  or  solemn,  gay  or  bold, 

Shall  last  in  fancy  unimpair’d. 

Even  round  the  death-bed  of  the  good 
Such  dear  remembrances  will  hover, 

And  haunt  us  with  no  vexing  mood 
When  all  the  cares  of  earth  are  over. 

But  yet  our  craving  spirits  feel 
We  shall  live  on,  though  fancy  die, 

And  seek  a surer  pledge — a seal 
Of  love  to  last  eternally. 

Who  art  thou,  that  wouldst  grave  thy  name 
Thus  deeply  in  a brother’s  heart.  ?* 

Look  on  this  saint,  and  learn  to  frame 
Thy  love-charm  with  true  Christian  art. 

First  seek  thy  Saviour  out,  and  dwell 
Beneath  the  shadow  of  his  roof,f 
Till  thou  have  scann’d  his  features  well, 

And  known  Him  for  the  Christ  by  proof— 


of  Advent.  (See  note  on  Advent  Sunday.)  The  \ 
honour  of  thus  announcing,  as  it  were,  the  coming  of  ? 
the  Lord,  may  have  been  assigned  to  him,  says  Bishop  S 
Sparrow,  because  “ it  was  he  who  first  came  to  Christ,  s 
and  followed  him  before  any  of  the  other  apostles.”] 

* [It  is  a beautiful  circumstance  that  the  two  disci-  $ 
pies  who  first  came  to  Jesus  were  brothers  in  the  flesh,  5 
and  that  the  one  led  the  other  to  him.  The  bond  of  ( 
brotherhood  may  well  be  close  and  holy.  But  how  ) 
much  more  so  when,  as  here,  nature  is  consecrated  ] 
by  grace  !] 

t [When  Andrew  and  the  other  disciple  to  whom  l 
John  spake,  had  followed  Jesus  till  they  saw  where  ) 
, he  dwelt,  they  “ abode  with  him  that  day  ” The  ac-  < 


I 238 


ST.  ANDDEW  S DAY. 


Such  proof  as  they  are  sure  to  find, 

Who  spend  with  him  their  happier  days ; 

Clean  hands,  and  a self-ruling  mind 
Ever  in  tune  for  love  and  praise. 

Then,  potent  with  the  spell  of  heaven, 

Go,  and  thine  erring  brother  gain  ;* 

Entice  him  home  to  be  forgiven, 

Till  he,  too,  see  his  Saviour  plain. 

Or,  if  before  thee  in  the  race. 

Urge  him  with  thine  advancing  tread, 

Till,  like  twin  stars,  with  even  pace, 

Each  lucid  course  be  duly  sped. 

No  fading  frail  memorial  give 
To  soothe  his  soul  when  thou  art  gone, 

But  wreathes  of  hope  for  aye  to  live, 

And.  thoughts  of  good  together  done. 

That  so,  before  the  judgment-seat 
Though  changed  and  glorified  each  face, 

Not  unremembered  ye  may  meet 
Fot  endless  ages  to  embrace.! 


, count  which  John  had  given  of  him  made  them  in  < 

> earnest  to  know  him,  and  they  took  the  proper  means,  ? 

J personal  acquaintance.  They  did  not  go,  and  look,  s 

> and  come  away.  They  “ abode  with  him.”  Is  it  not  £ 

\ universally  in  his  sacrificial  character,  as  the  Lamb  of  > 

> God,  taking  away  sin,  that  the  Saviour  permanently  < 

> impresses  the  hearts  of  men,— draws  them  and  keeps  ? 

I them  ?] 

, * [“  He  first  findeth  his  own  brother  Simon,  and  l 

> saith  unto  him,  We  have  found  the  Messias ; and  he  ( 

\ brought  him  to  Jesus.”  His  intercourse  with  him  > 

| whom  John  describes  as  the  “ Lamb  of  God,”  enabled  s 
i Andrew  to  recognise  him  as  the  Messias,  the  Christ,  ? 

| or  Anointed.]  5 

^ t [There  is  here  allusion  made  to  that  hope  of  re-^ 


ST.  THOMAS’  DAT.* 

[DECEMBER  21.] 

Thomas,  because  thou  hast  seen  me,  thou  hast  be-  j 
? lieved : blessed  are  they  that  have  not  seen,  and  yet  < 
) have  believed. — St.  John  xx.  29.  [ Gospel  for  the  < 
$ Day.] 

> [Almighty  and  ever  living  God,  who.  for  the  greater  j 
; confirmation  of  the  faith,  didst  suffer  thy  holy  Apostle  l 

< Thomas  to  be  doubtful  in  thy  Son’s  resurrection  ; \ 
) grant  us  so  perfectly,  and  without  all  doubt,  to  believe  < 
s in  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ,  that  our  faith  in  thy  sight  may  ; 
£ never  be  reproved.  Hear  us,  O Lord,  through  the  i 
5 same  Jesus  Christ;  to  whom,  with  thee  and  the  Holy 

< Ghost,  be  all  honour  and  glory,  now  and  for  evermore.  ; 
\ Amen.] 

We  were  not  by  when  Jesus  came,f 
But  round  us,  far  and  near, 

i cognition  in  a future  state  in  which  many  pious  Chris-  , 
tians  not  groundlessly  indulge.  Bishop  Mant,  in  his  < 
“ Happiness  of  the  Blessed,”  has  fully  investigated  < 
the  subject,  by  the  light  of  Scripture,  and  shown  it  to  \ 
be  at  least  probable.  There  is  an  able  sermon,  too,  on  < 
< this  interesting  subject,  by  my  long-loved  friend,  the  \ 
\ Rev.  Benjamin  Dorr,  rector  of  Trinity  Church,  Utica.  < 
■,  — Since  the  first  edition,  this  sermon  has  been  en-  ( 
) larged  and  published  in  a neat  little  volume,  entitled, 
i “ Recognition  of  Friends  in  another  World.”] 

] * [Thomas,  called  also  Didymus,  the  twin,  was  a 

< fisherman  of  Galilee.  He  is  chiefly  memorable  for 
) his  strange  incredulity,  and  its  complete  conviction, 
j He  was  an  apostle  of  our  Lord,  and  is  said  by  Origen 
? to  have  laboured  chiefly  in  Parthia.  A race  of  Chris- 
$ tians  have  been  found  near  the  coast  of  Malabar, 

< known  as  the  “ Christians  of  St.  Thomas,”  and  claim- 
) ing  spiritual  descent  from  him.  See  Dr.  Buchanan’ 

< very  interesting  “ Christian  Researches  in  India.”  ] 

\ t St.  John  xx.  24.  Thomas,  one  of  the  twelve, 

' called  Didymus,  was  not  with  them  when  Jesus  came. 


ian  s 

•”J  l 

elve,  l 


ST.  THOMAS’  DAY. 


We  see  his  trophies,  and  his  name 
In  choral  echoes  hear. 

In  a fair  ground  our  lot  is  cast, 

As  in  the  solemn  week  that  past, 

While  some  might  doubt,  but  all  ador’d,* 

\ Ere  the  whole  widow’d  Church  had  seen  her  risen  [ 
Lord. 

Slowly,  as  then,  His  bounteous  hand 
The  golden  chain  unwinds, 

Drawing  to  Heaven  with  gentlest  band 
Wise  hearts  and  loving  minds. 

Love  sought  him  first— at  dawn  of  mornf 
From  her  sad  couch  she  sprang  forlorn, 

She  sought  to  weep  with  Thee  alone, 

> And  saw  thine  open  grave,  and  knew  that  thou  \ 
wert  gone. 

Reason  and  Faith  at  once  set  outf 
To  search  the  Saviour’s  tomb ; 

Faith  faster  runs,  but  waits  without, 

As  fearing  to  presume, 

Till  Reason  enter  in,  and  trace 
Christ’s  relics  round  the  holy  place— 

“ Here  lay  His  limbs,  and  here  Ilis  sacred  \ 
head, 

> And  who  was  by,  to  make  his  new-forsaken  bed?”  [ 


* St.  Matt,  xxviii:  17.  When  they  saw  him^they^ 
] worshipped  him:  but  some  doubted. 

t St.  Mary  Magdalen’s,  visit  to  the  sepulchre; 

[“  Not  she  with  traitorous  kiss  her  Saviour  stung, 
Not  she  denied  him  with  unholy  tongue : 

She,  while  apostles  shrunk,  could  danger  brave, 
Last  at  his  cross,  and  earliest  at  his  grave.” 

Woman , a Poem , by  Barret .] 
t St.  Peter  and  St.  John. 


t 


ST.  THOMAS’  DAY. 


241  < 


Both  wonder,  one  believes— but  while 
They  muse  on  all  at  home, 

No  thought  can  tender  love  beguile 
From  Jesus’  grave  to  roam. 

Weeping  she  stays  till  He  appear — 

Her  witness  first  the  Church  must  hear* — 

All  joy  to  souls  that  can  rejoice 
| With  her  at  earliest  call  of  His  dear  gracious  ^ 
voice. 

Joy  too  to  those,  who  love  to  talk 
In  secret  how  He  died, 

Though  with  seal’d  eyes  awhile  they  walk, 
Nor  see  Him  at  their  side; 

Most  like  the  faithful  pair  are  they.f 
Who  once  to  Emmaus  took  their  way, 

Half  darkling,  till  their  Master  shed 
| His  glory  on  their  souls,  made.known  in  break- 
ing bread. 

Thus,  ever  brighter  and  more  bright, 

On  thosei  he  came  to  save 
The  Lord  of  new-created  light 
Dawn’d  gradual  from  the  grave: 

Till  pass’d  th’  inquiring  daylight  hour, 

And  with  clos’d  door  in  silent  bowerj 

‘ [The  first  appearance  of  the  risen  Saviour  was  to  \ 
her  out  of  whom  he  had  cast  seven  devils.  A touch-  ? 
ing  circumstance,  full  of  encouragement,  and  beauti-  S 
? fully  illustrative  of  His  tender  love,  who  is  not  willing  ( 
S that  any  should  perish,  and  desires  the  salvation  even  [ 
( of  the  chief  of  sinners.] 
t [St.  Luke  xxiv.  13-32.] 

| [St.  John  xx.  19.  Then  the  same  day  at  evening,  l 
? being  the  first  day  of  the  week,  when  the  doors  were  \ 
5 shut  where  the  disciples  were  assembled  for  fear  of  the  > 
< Jews,  came  Jesus,  and  stood  in  the  midst,  and  said  ( 
) unto  them,  Peace  be  unto  you.] 


16 


I 242 


ST.  THOMAS  DAY. 


The  Church  in  anxious  musing  sate, 

| As  one  who  for  redemption  still  had  long  to  wait.  ! 

Then,  gliding  through  th’  unopening  door, 
Smooth  without  step  or  sound, 

“ Peace  to  your  souls,”  He  said — no  more— 
They  own  him,  kneeling  round. 

Eye,  ear,  and  hand,  and  loving  heart,* 

Body  and  soul  in  every  part, 

Successive  made  his  witnesses  that  hour. 

\ Cease  not  in  all  the  world  to  show  his  saving  < 
power. 

Is  there,  on  earth,  a spirit  frail, 

Who  fears  to  take  their  word, 

Scarce  daring,  through  the  twilight  pale, 

To  think  he  sees  the  Lord? 

With  eyes  too  tremblingly  awake 
To  bear  with  dimness  for  His  sake? 

Read  and  confess  the  hand  divine 
\ That  drew  thy  likeness  here  so  true  in  every  | 
line. 

For  all  thy  rankling  doubts  so  sore, 

Love  thou  thy  Saviour  still, 

Him  for  thy  Lord  and  God  adore, t 
And  ever  do  His  will. 


* [He  snowed  unto  them  his  hands  and  his  side.] 
t [The  unbelief  of  Thomas,  or,  as  the  Collect  ex-  < 
| presses  it,  his  “doubtfulness  in  Christ’s  resurrection” 
removed,  most  naturally  carries  him  to  the  fullest  ex- 
pression of  his  conviction  not  only  of  that  fact,  but  of  ) 
J his  lull  divinity,  “ My  Lord,  and  my  God!’’ — Is  not  \ 
> this  ardour  of  conviction  very  characteristic  in  him  \ 
< who  before  had  said,  “ Let  us  also  go,  that  we  may  [ 
£ die  with  him?”— -St.  Johnx. i.  t6.]  \ 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL.  243: 


Though  vexing  thoughts  may  seem  to  last, 

Let  not  thy  soul  be  quite  o’ercast ; — 

Soon  wiil  he  show  thee  all  His  wounds,  and  j 
say, 

‘ Long  have  I known  thy  name*— know  thou  my  \ 
face  alway.” 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL.t 

{JANUARY  25.] 

And  he  fell  to  the  earth,  and  heard  a voice  saying 
s unto  him,  Saul,  Saul,  why  persecutest  thou  me?  And  ho  | 
? said,  Who  art  thou,  Lord?  And  the  Lord  said,  I am  < 
i Jesus  whom  thou  persecutest. — Acts  ix.  4,5.  [Scry?- 
j ture  for  the  Epistle .] 

[O  God,  who  through  the  preaching  of  the  blessed  < 
l Apostle  Saint  Paul,  hast  caused  the  light  of  the  gospel  < 
> to  shine  throughout  the  world  ; grant,  we  beseech  thee,  ! 

< that  we,  having  his  wonderful  conversion  in  remem-  < 
) brance,  may  show  forth  our  thankfulness  unto  thee  for  > 
£ the  same,  by  following  the  holy  doctrine  which  he 

£ taught,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.  1 > 

The  midday  sun,  with  fiercest  glare, 

Broods  o’er  the  hazy,  twinkling  air; 

Along  the  level  sand 
The  palm  tree’s  shade  unwavering  lies, 

Just  as  thy  towers,  Damascus,  rise 
To  greet  yon  wearied  band. 

* In  Exodus  xxxiii.  17,  God  says  to  Moses,  “ I know  ] 

< thee  by  name  meaning,  “ L bear  especial  favour  ^ 

towards  thee.”  Thus  our  Saviour  speaks  to  St.  > 
} Thomas  by  name  in  the  place  here  referred  to.  S 

t [Paul,  whose  name  was  Saul,  was  a Jew  of  Tar-  > 

< sus  in  Cilicia.  He  was  instructed  in  all  the  learning  of  $ 
? his  nation  by  the  celebrated  Gamaliel.  In  accordance,  , 


J 244  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  FAUL. 

> The  leader  of  that  martial  crew 
[ Seems  bent  some  mighty  deed  to  do, 

$ So  steadily  he  speeds, 

With  lips  firm  closed  and  fixed  eye, 
Like  warrior  when  the  fight  is  nigh, 
Nor  talk  nor  landscape  heeds. 

What  sudden  blaze  is  round  him  pour’d, 
As  though  all  heaven’s  refulgent  hoard 
In  one  rich  glory  shone  ? 

One  moments— and  to  earth  he  falls; 
What  voice  his  inmost  heart  appals  ?— 
Voice  heard  by  him  alone. 

For  to  the  rest  both  words  and  form 
Seem  lost  in  lightning  and  in  storm, 
While  Saul,  in  wakeful  trance, 

Sees  deep  within  that  dazzling  field 
His  persecuted  Lord  reveal’d 
With  keen  yet  pityiitg  glance  ; 

And  hears  the  meek  upbraiding  call 
As  gently  on  his  spirit  fall, 

As  if  th’  Almighty  Son 


however,  with  Jewish  usages,  he  learned  the  trade  of  s 
£ a tent-maker.  Being  a great  zealot  for  the  law,  he  ex-  l 
£ erted  himself  in  every  way  to  oppose  Christianity,  and 

> destroy  its  professors.  It  was  on  a journey  of  persecu- 
( tion  to  Damascus,  that  he  was  suddenly  arrested  by  a 

\ light  from  heaven,  and  miraculously  converted  to  the  s 

> Christian  faith  by  the  voice  of  the  Lord  Jesus  himself,  l 
J At  the  same  time  he  was  called  to  bean  Aposile,  and  S 

> sent  especially  to  the  Gentiles.  After  great  labours  and  < 

> perils,  in  which  he  planted  many  churches,  and  wrote  > 

> fourteen  epistles,  he  suffered  martyrdom  at  Rome,  < 

s under  Nero,  A.  D.  68.  The  festival  appointed  in  his  ? 
I honour  commemorates,  not,  as  usual,  his  death,  but  S 
S his  conversion.  The  argument  for  the  truth  of  Chris-  t 
< tianity  from  this  event  hgs  been  most  admirably  stated  / 
? by  Lord  Lyttleton.]  < 


THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL.  245 


Were  prisoner  yet  in  this  dark  earth, 

Nor  had  proclaim’d  his  royal  birth, 

Nor  his  great  power  begun. 

“Ah  ! wherefore  persecutest  thou  me  ?” 

He  heard  and  saw,  and  sought  to  free 
His  strain’d  eye  from  the  sight ; 

But  Heaven’s  high  magic  bound  it  there, 

Still  gazing,  though  untaught  to  bear 
Th’  insufferable  light. 

“ Who  art  thou,  Lord?”  he  falters  forth 
So  shall  sin  ask  of  heaven  and  earth 
At  the  last  awful  day, 

“ When  did  we  see  thee  suffering  nigh,* 

And  pass’d  thee  with  unheeding  eye  ? 

Great  God  of  judgment,  say  !” 

Ah  ! little  dream  our  listless  eyes 
What  glorious  presence  they  despise. 

While,  in  our  noon  of  life, 

To  power  or  fame  we  rudely  press, — 

Christ  is  at  hand,  to  scorn  or  bless, 

Christ  suffers  in  our  strife. 

And  though  heaven  gate  long  since  have  closed,  | 
And  our  dear  Lord  iii  bliss  reposed 
High  above  mortal  ken, 

To  every  ear  in  every  land 
(Though  meek  ears  only  understand)! 

He  speaks  as  He  did  then. 


* St.  Matthew  xxv.  44. 
t [Is  it  not  to  meekness,  as  the  fruit  of  faith,  that  the  \ 
rjchest  encouragements  of  the  Scripture  are  given  ? ) 
“ The  meek  will  he  t^uide  in  judgment,  and  the  meek  S 
will  he  teach  his  way.”  The  same  sentiment  is  im-  l 
bodied  in  the  promise  of  the  same  Psalm,  (-25.)  “ The  > 
secret  of  the  Lord  is  with  them  that  fear  him.”  It  is  < 


£246  THE  CONVERSION  OF  ST.  PAUL. 

\ “All ! wherefore  persecute  ye  me  ? 

I ’Tis  hard,  ye  so  in  love  should  be* 

With  your  own  endless  wo. 

Know,  though  at  God’s  right  hand  I live, 

I feel  each  wound  ye  reckless  give 
; To  the  least  saint  below. 

I in  your  care  my  brethren  left,f 
Not  willing  ye  should  be  bereft 
Of  waiting  on  your  Lord. 

The  meanest  offering  ye  can  make — 

A drop  of  water— for  love’s  sake,J. 

In  heaven,  be  sure,  is  stored.” 

Oh  ! by  those  gentle  tones  and  dear, 

When  Thou  hast  stay’d  our  wild  career, 

Thou  only  hope  of  souls, 

Ne’er  let  us  cast  one  look  behind, 

But  in  the  thought  of  Jesus  find 
What  every  thought  controls. 

As  to  thy  last  Apostle’s  heart 
Thy  lightning  glance  did  then  impart 
Zeal’s  never-dying  fire, 

> the  meek  and  contrite  spirit  which  is  described  by  £ 
J Isaiah  as  trembling  at  God’s  word.  And  is  not  the  < 

> spirit  of  meekness  the  spirit  of  that  precious  text,  “ If  > 

i any  man  will  do  his  will,  he  shall  know  of  the  doc-  S 
£ trine,  whether  it  be  of  God?”  At  least  it  may  be  said,  < 
s that  meekness  is  eminently  the  element  of  Christian  £ 
£ discipleship.]  < 

J * r It  is  hard  for  thee  to  kick  against  the  pricks”  — < 

> resistance  to  the  will  of  God  is  self-destruction.  The  £ 
5 figure  is  taken  from  the  eastern  mode  of  driving  oxen  £ 

> with  a goad,  against  which  the  restive  animal  kicks  < 

> back,  and  hurts  himself.] 

t [“  The  poor  ye  have  always  with  you.”] 
t St.  Matthew  x.  42. 


t 


THE  PURIFICATION. 


247  \ 


So  teach  us  on  thy  shrine  to  lay 
Our  hearts,  and  let  them  day  by  day 
Intenser  blaze  and  higher. 

And  as  each  mild  and  winning  note 
(Like  pulses  that  round  harp-strings  float, 
When  the  full  strain  is  o’er) 

Left  lingering  on  his  inward  ear 
Music,  that  taught,  as  death  drew  near, 
Love’s  lesson  more  and  more ; 

So,  as  we  walk  our  earthly  round, 

Still  may  the  echo  of  that  sound 
Be  in  our  memory  stored  ; 

“Christians  ! behold  your  happy  state  ; 
Christ  is  in  these,  who  round  you  wait ; 
Make  much  of  your  dear  Lord  !” 


THE  PURIFICATION.* 

[FEBRUARY  2.] 

Blessed  are  the  pure  in  heart,  for  they  shall  see  God.  \ 
; — St.  Matthew  v.  8. 

( [Almighty  and  everliving  God,  we  humbly  beseech  \ 
) thy  Majesty,  that  as  thy  only  begotten  Son  was  this  ? 
< clay  presented  in  the  Temple  in  substance  of  our  flesh  ; ) 
> so  we  may  be  presented  unto  thee  with  pure  apd  clean  ? 
] hearts,  by  the  same  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  [ 
$ Amen.] 

Bless’d  are  the  pure  in  heart. 

For  they  shall  see  our  God, 

The  secret  of  the  Lord  is  theirs, 

Their  soul  is  Christ’s  abode. 


* [This  is  a double  festival.  It  commemorates  the 
^offering  under  the  law  made  by  the  blessed  mother,  and^. 


248  THE  PURIFICATION. 

\ Might  mortal  thought  presume 

To  guess  an  angel’s  lay, 

Such  are  the  notes  that  echo  through 
The  courts  of  heaven  to-day. 

Such  the  triumphal  hymns 
On  Sion’s  Prince  that  wait, 

In  high  procession  passing  on 
Towards  His  temple-gate. 

Give  ear,  ye  kings— bow  down, 

Ye  rulers  of  the  earth— 

This,  this  is  He ; your  Priest  by  grace. 
Your  God  and  King  by  birth. 

No  pomp  of  earthly  guards 
Attends  with  sword  and  spear, 

And  all-defying,  dauntless  look, 

Their  monarch’s  way  to  clear. 


the  presentation,  in  agreement  with  the  provision  of  the  i 
! same  law,  of  the  incarnate  Son,  in  the  temple  of  his  s 
J Father.  The  narrative,  as  it  is  recorded  by  St.  Luke  i.  22  l 

> — 33,  needs  no  explanation,  and  can  receive  no  addi-  5 
1 tional  interest.  In  the  Book  ofCotnmon  Prayer, the  name  < 
? of  the  festival  is  more  fully  descriptive  of  its  objects, — > 
S “ The  Presentation  of  Christ  in  the  Temple,  commonly  £ 
l called  the  Purification  of  St.  Mary  the  Virgin.”  It  is  also  ? 

known  in  England  as  “ Candlemas  day,”  because  for-  i 
! merly  at  its  celebration  candles  were  lighted  in  the  ^ 
? churches.  ‘‘We  carry  lights  in  our  hands,”  says  a 
| writer  of  the  twelfth  century,  quoted  by  Bishop  Spar- 
l row,  “ first,  to  signify  that  our  light  should  shine  before  < 

> men;  secondly,  this  we  do  this  day  especially  in  me-  ) 
tnory  of  the  wise  virgins,  of  whom  this  blessed  virgin  < 

[ is  the  chief,  who  went  to  meet  their  Lord  with  their  > 

, lamps  lighted  and  burning.”  But  a better  reason  is  < 

’ found  in  the  description  given  of  our  Lord  on  this  < 
i occasion,  by  good  old  Simeon,  as  “ a light  to  lighten  ^ 

; the  Gentiles.”  The  practice  was  interdicted  in  1348,  r 
' by  the  order  of  Archbishop  Cranmer.J 


THE  PURIFICATION. 


249  ] 


Yet  are  there  more  with  him 
Than  all  that  are  with  you — 

The  armies  of  the  highest  heaven, 

All  righteous,  good,  and  true. 

Spotless  their  robes  and  pure, 

Dipp’d  in  the  sea  of  light 
That  hides  the  un approached  shrine 
From  men’s  and  angels’  sight. 

His  throne,  thy  bosom  blest, 

O Mother  undefiled — 

That  throne,  if  aught  beneath  the  skies, 
Beseems  the  sinless  child. 

Lost  in  high  thoughts,  “ whose  son 
The  wondrous  Babe  might  prove,” 

Her  guileless  husband  walks  beside, 
Bearing  the  hallow’d  dove  ;* 

Meet  emblem  of  His  vow, 

Who,  on  this  happy  day, 

His  dove-like  soul— best  sacrifice — 

Did  on  God’s  altar  lay. 

But  who  is  he,  by  yearsf 
Bow’d,  but  erect  in  heart, 

Whose  prayers  are  struggling  with  his  tears  ? 
“ Lord,  let  me  now  depart. 

Now  hath  thy  servant  seen 
Thy  saving  health,  O Lord  : 

’Tis  time  that  I depart  in  peace, 
According  to  thy  word.” 


* [This  was  the  offering  permitted  by  the  law  to  the  < 
poor.  “ And  if  she  be  not  able  to  bring  a lamb,  then  £ 
she  shall  bring  two  turtle-doves.’’ — Leviticus,  xii.  8.  1 
So  did  he,  who  was  rich,  for  our  sakes  become  poor.]  I 
t [Simeon,  a man  just  and  devout,  who  waited  for  > 
the  consolation  of  Israel.] 


$ 250  THE  PURIFICATION. 

Yet  swells  the  pomp:  one  more 
Comes  forth  to  bless  her  God  : 

Full  fourscore  years,  meek  widow,  she* 

Her  heavenward  way  hath  trod. 

She  who  to  earthly  joys 
So  long  had  given  farewell', 

Now  sees,  unlook’d  for,  heaven  on  earth, 
Christ  in  His  Israel. 

Wide  open  from  that  hour 
The  temple-gates  are  set, 

And  still  the  saints  rejoicing  there 
The  holy  Child  have  met. 

Now  count  his  train  to-day, 

Aud  who  may  meet  him,  learn  : 

Him  child-like  sires,  meek  maidens  find, 
Where  pride  can  naught  discern. 

Still  to  the  lowly  soul 
He  doth  himself  impart, 

And  for  His  cradle  and  His  throne  \ 

Chooseth  the  pure  in  heart.f  j 

* [Anna,  a prophetess,  a widow  of  about  fourscore  ( 

> and  four  years,  which  departed  not  from  the  temple,  ? 
j but  served  God  with  fastings  and  prayers  night  and  £ 
i day.  Such  as  these  two  devout  and  holy  persons  are  \ 

> they  to  whom,  in  all  ages,  the  Lord’s  Christ  has  been  > 

] revealed.]  \ < 

t [There  are  more  senses  than  one  in  which  the  < 

> blessedness  of  seeing  God  belongs  to  the  pure  in  heart.  > 

> To  them  it  is  given  to  understand  his  will  here,  as  > 

> hereafter  to  know  even  as  they  are  known.]  > 


[FEBRUARY  24.] 

Wherefore  of  these  men,  which  have  companied  |> 
| with  us  all  the  time  that  the  Lord  Jesus  went  in  and  < 
' out  among  us;  beginning  from  the  baptism  of  John,  ? 
I until  that  same  day  that  he  was  taken  up  from  us,  5 
1 must  one  be  ordained  to  be  a witness  with  us  of  his  l 
I resurrection.  — Acts  i.  21,  22.  f Scripture  for  the? 
; Epistle .]  < 

[O  Almighty  God,  who  into  the  place  of  the  traitor  > 
} Judas  didst  choose  thy  faithful  servant  Matthias,  to  > 

> be  of  the  number  of  the  twelve  apostles ; grant  that  < 
! thy  Church,  being  always  preserved  from  false  apos-  \ 
} ties,  may  be  ordered  and  guided  by  faithful  and  true  < 

> Pastors,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.  J ? 

Who  is  God’s  chosen  priest  ? 

He,  who  on  Christ  stands  waiting  day  and  night,  l 
1 Who  traced  His  holy  steps,  nor  ever  ceased 
From  Jordan  banks  to  Bethphage  height ; 

Who  hath  learned  lowliness 
From  his  Lord’s  cradle,  patience  from  his  cross  ; 

! Whom  poor  men’s  eyes  and  hearts  consent  to  \ 
bless; 

To  whom,  for  Christ,  the  world  is  loss  ; 

Who  both  in  agony 

Hath  seen  Him  and  in  glory ; and  in  both 

> Own’d  Him  divine,  and  yielded,  nothing  loath, 

Body  and  soul,  to  live  and  die, 

* [St.  Matthias,  probably  of  the  seventy,  was  chosen  < 

I under  the  divine  direction,  to  supply  the  vacant  apos-  ? 

; tleship  of  Judas,  who,  “ by  transgression,  fell.”  It  is  ] 

• remarkable  that  this  event,  as  St.  Peter  plainly  showed  ? 

I (Acts  i.  20),  was  the  subject  of  express  prophecy.] 


252 


ST.  MATTHIAS  DAY. 


In  witness  of  his  Lord, 

! In  humble  following  of  his  Saviour  dear  ; 
j This  is  the  man  to  wield  th’  unearthly  sword, 
Warring  unharm’d  with- sin  and  feaf. 

But  who  can  e’er  suffice* — 

\ What  mortal— for  this  more  than  angel’s  task, 

> Winning  or  losing  souls,  Thy  life-blood’s  price? 

’ The  gift  were  too  divine  to  ask, 

But  Thou  hast  made  it  sure 
$ By  Thy  dear  promise  to  Thy  Church  and  Bride, 

\ That  Thou,  on  earth,  would’st  aye  witii  her 
endure, 

Till  earth  to  heaven  be  purified-! 

\ Thou  art  her  only  spouse, 

'<  Whose  arm  supports  her,  on  whose  faithful  breast 
^ Her  persecuted  head  she  meekly  bows, 

| Sure  pledge  of  her  eternal  rest. 

{ Thou,  her  unerring  guide, 

j Stayest  her  fainting  steps  along  the  wild; 
i Thy  mark  is  on  the  bowers  of  lust  and  pride, 

| That  she  may  pass  them  undefiled. 

$ Who  then,  uncall’d  by  Thee, 

j Dare  touch  thy  spouse,  thy  very  self  below  ? 
j Or  who  dare  count  him  summon’d  worthily, 

> Except  thine  hand  and  seal  he  show  ? 

> Where  can  thy  seal  be  found, 

\ But  on  the  chosen  seed,  from  age  to  age 


( * [Who  is  sufficient  for  these  things  ? — 2 Corinthians  5 

5 ii.  16.]  s 

< t [Lo,  l am  with  you  always,  even  unto  the  end  of  / 
l the  world. — St.  Matthew  xxviii.  20.1 


By  thine  anointed  heralds  duly  crown’d, 

As  kings  and  priests  thy  war  to  wage  ?* 

Then  fearless  walk  we  forth, 

Yet  full  of  trembling,  messengers  of  God  : 

Our  warrant  sure,  but  doubting  of  our  worth, 

By  our  own  shame  alike  and  glory  awed. 

Dread  Searcher  of  the  hearts, 

Thou  who  didst  seal  by  thy  descending  Dove 
Thy  servant’s  choice,  oh  help  us  in  our  parts, 
Else  helpless  found,  to  learn  and  teach  thy 


* [This  is  a pregnant  question.  The  ministers  of 
Christ  either  represent  him,  or  act  in  their  own  name. 
If  the  latter,  what  authority  have  they  more  than 
other  men  ? If  the  former,  where  is  the  evidence  of 
their  authority  to  represent  Christ?  That  he  sent  the 
apostles  in  his  own  name  is  evident.  That  they  in 
like  manner  sent  others  is  evident.  That  from  the 
apostles’  times  the  sacred  chain  has  never  yet  been 
broken  is  evident.  Where  shall  the  seal  be  looked  for 
then,  but  among  them  who,  from  age  to  age,  have 
st  ill  been  sent  by  those  whom  Christ  6ent,  as  the  Father 
first  sent  him  ? What  warrant  surer  need  there  be 
than  theirs,  which,  issued  at  the  first  by  Christ  him- 
self, has  since  been  handed  down,  from  band  to  hand, 
as  duly  and  as  certainly  as  the  inspired  record  of  our 
faith  ?] 


* 


! 254 


THE  ANNUNCIATION. 


: THE  ANNUNCIATION'  OF  THE  BLESS-  1 
ED  VIRGIN  MARY.* 

[march  25.] 

And  the  Angel  camb  in  unto  her,  and  said,  Hail,  ^ 
! thou  that  art  highly  favoured,  the  Lord  is  with  thee,  5 
1 blessed  art  thou  among  women.  — St.  Lake  i.  28.  s 
I iGospel  for  the  Day.] 

[We  beseech  thee,  O Lord,  pour  thy  grace  into  our  £ 
! hearts;  that  as  we  have  known  i he  incarnation  of  thy  5 
> Son  Jesus  Christ  by  the  message  of  an  angel,  so  by  < 
! his  cross  and  passion  we  may  be  brought  unto  the  J 
; glory  of  h^  resurrection,  through  the  same  Jesus  s 
’ Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.  J 

Oh,  Tlioti  who  deign’st  to  sympathize 
With  all  our  frail  and  fleshly  ties, 

Maker,  yet  Brother  dear, 

Forgive  the  too  presumptuous  thought, 

If,  calming  wayward  grief,  [ sought 
To  gaze  on  Thee  too  near. 

Yet  sure  ’t  was  not  presumption,  Lord, 
’Twas  thine  own  comfortable  word 
That  made  the  lesson  knovvn : 

Of  all  the  dearest  bonds  we  prove, 

Thou  countest  sons’  and  mothers’  love 
Most  sacred,  most  thine  own. 

When  wandering  here  a little  span, 

Thou  took’st  on  Thee  to  rescue  man, 


, * [This  festival,  frequently  denominated  Lady  Day, 

; commemorates  the  annunciation,  or  declaration  made 
> by  the  angel  Gabriel  to  the  Virgin  Mary,  that  she 
I should  become,  by  the  overshadowing  of  the  Holy 
» Ghost,  the  mother  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ.] 


THE  ANNUNCIATION.  255  \ 

Thou  hadst  no  earthly  sire: 

That  wedded  love  we  prize  so  dear, 

As  if  our  heaven  and  home  were,  here, 

It  lit  in  Thee  no  fire. 

On  no  sweet  sister’s  faithful  breast 
Wouldst  thou  thine  aching  forehead  rest, 

On  no  kind  brother  lean  : 

But  who,  O perfect  filial  heart, 

E’er  did  like  Thee  a true  son’s  part, 
Endearing,  firm,  serene  ? 

Thou  wept’st,  meek  maiden,  mother  mild, 
Thou  wept’st  upon  thy  sinless  child, 

Thy  very  heart  was  riven  : 

And  yet,  what  mourning  matron  here 
Would  deem  thy  sorrows  bought  too  dear 
By  all  on  this  side  heaven  ? 

A son  that  never  did  amiss, 

That  never  shamed  his  mother’s  kiss, 

Nor  cross’d  her  fondest  prayer: 

Even  from  the  tree  he  deign’d  to  bow 
For  her  his  agonized  brow, 

Her,  his  sole  earthly  care.* 

Ave  Maria!  blessed  Maidl 
Lily  of  Eden’s  fragrant  shade, 


* [There  is  no  passage  in  the  whole  scripture  of ) 
deeper  and  more  touching  pathos  than  that  which  re-  5 
cords  the  Saviour’s  commendation  of  his  mother  to  < 
the  beloved  disciple.  “ When  Jesus,  therefore,  saw  j 
his  mother  and  the  disciple  standing  by  whom  he  j 
loved,  he  saith  unto  his  mother,  Woman,  behold  ihy 
Son.  Then  saith  be  to  the  disciple.  Behold  thy  t 
> mother  ; and  from  that  hour  that  disciple  took  her  to  £ 
s his'own  home.” — St.  John  xix.  26,  27.1 


$ 256  THE  ANNUNCIATION. 

Who  can  express  the  love 
That  nurtured  thee  so  pure  and  sweet, 
Making  thy  heart  a shelter  mdet 
For  Jesus’  holy  Dove  ? 

Ave  Maria ! Mother  blest, 

To  whom  caressing  and  caress’d 
Clings  the  Eternal  child; 

Favour’d  beyond  Archangel’s  dream, 
When  first  on  thee  with  tenderest  gleam 
Thy  new-born  Saviour  smiled  : — 
Ave  Maria!  Thou  whose  name 
All  but  adoring  love  may  claim,* 

Yet  may  we  reach  thy  shrine  ; 

For  He,  thy  Son  and  Saviour,  vows 
To  crown  all  lowly  lofty  brows 
With  love  and  joy  like  thine. 


. * [The  Church  in  this,  as  in  all  other  things,  follows 

I closely  after  the  scriptures.  The  mother  of  our  Lord  j 
she  regards  and  honours  as  “ blessed  among  women  j”  ) 
but  she  pays  her  no  adoration,  and  raises  her  into  no  $ 
competition  with  the  “one  mediator  between  God  and  < 
man.”  So  Bishop  Mant, — 

“ Blest  among  women  is  thy  lot : 

£ But  higher  meed  we  yield  thee  not, 

( Nor  more  than  woman’s  name. 

\ Nor  solemn  4 Hail’  to  thee  we  pay 

} Nor  prayer  to  thee  for  mercy  pray, 

S Nor  hymn  of  glory  raise; 

i Nor  thine  we  deem  in  God’s  high  throne, 

) Nor  thine  the  birth  right  of  thy  Son 

< The  Mediator’s  praise. 

\ Mother  of  Jesus,  Parent  dear  ! 

< If  aught  of  earthly  thou  couldst  hear, 

\ If  aught  of  human  see  ; 

j What  pantjs  thy  humble  heart  must  wring 
l To  know  thy  Saviour,  Lord  and  King, 
Dishonour’d  thus  for  thee  !”1 


ST.  MARK’S  DAY. 


257  : 


Bless’d  is  the  wcmb  that  bare  Him— bless’d*  ? 
The  bosom  where  his  lips  were  press’d,  ) 
But  rather  bless’d  are  they  / 

Who  hear  his  word  and  keep  it  well, 

The  living  homes  where  Christ  shall  dwell. 
And  never  pass  away. 


ST.  MARK'S  DAT.t 

[APRIL  25.] 

And  the  contention  was  so  sharp  between  them,  that  \ 
\ they  departed  asunder  the  one  from  the  other. — A cts  > 
l xv.  39. 

1 Compare  2 Timothy  iv.  11.  Take  Mark,  and  bring 
) him  with  thee,  for  he  is  profitable  to  me  for  the  ministry.  < 
i [O  Almighty  God,  who  hast  instructed  thy  Holy  b 
< Church  with  the  heavenly  doctrine  of  thy  Evangelist  < 
1 Saint  Mark;  give  us  grace,  that  being  not  like  children  ) 
$ carried  away  with  every  blast  of  vain  doctrine,  we  may  < 
<!  be  established  in  the  truth  of  the  holy  Gospel,  through  ? 
$ Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Oh  ! who  shall  dare  in  this  frail  scene 
On  holiest,  happiest  thoughts  to  lean. 

On  friendship,  kindred,  or  on  love  ? 


* St.  Luke  xi.  27,  28. 

t l St.  Mark  is  one  of  the  two  who  are  commemo-  i 
rated  by  the  Church  as  Evangelists  ; he  having  written  j 

> one  of  the  four  Gospels,  though  not  called  to  be  an  J 
( apostle.  He  was  the  companion,  however,  of  Paul,  j 

> and  Barnabas,  and  Peter,  with  whom  he  preached  the  > 
l Gospel.  He  was  the  sister’s  son  of  Barnabas,  his  j 

> mother  being  that  Mary  to  whose  house  at  Jerusalem  ) 

> the  disciples  much  resorted,  ( Acts  xii.  12.)  He  is  com-  < 
< monly  known  in  Scripture  as  John  Mark,  and  is  de-  ? 

> dared  by  Eusebius  to  have  been  the  first  bishop  of  S 

( Alexandria.]  < 

17  * > 


; 258 


ST.  mark’s  DAY. 


Since  not  apostles’  hands  can  clasp 
Each  other  in  so  firm  a grasp, 

But  they  shall  change  and  variance  prove. 

Yet  deem  not,  on  such  parting  sad 
Shall  dawn  no  welcome  dear  and  glad : 
Divided  in  their  earthly  race, 

Together  at  the  glorious  goal, 

Each  leading  many  a rescued  soul* 

The  faithful  champions  shall  embraoe. 

For  even  as  those  mysterious  Four, 

Who  the  bright  whirling  wheels  upbore 
By  Chebar  in  the  fiery  blast,* 

So,  on  their  tasks  of  love  and  praise, 

The  saints  of  God  their  several  ways 
Right  onward  speed,  yet  join  at  last.f 

And  sometimes  even  beneath  the  moon 
The  Saviour  gives  a gracious  boon, 

When  reconciled  Christians  meet. 

And  face  to  face,  and  heart  to  heart, 

High  thoughts  of  holy  love  impart 

In  silence  meek,  or  converse  sweet. 

Companion  of  the  saints!  ^t  was  thine 
To  taste  that  drop  of  peace  divine, 

When  the  great  soldier  of  thy  Lord 

* Ezekiel  i.  9.  They  turned  not  when  they  went — \ 

> they  went  every  one  straight  forward. 

t [The  whole  passage  in  Ezekiel  is  mo3t  glorious  and  £ 
\ majestic.  The  paraphrase  here  used  of  the  scriptural  £ 

> phrase  “straight  forward”  is  Miltonic  : — 


'*  Yet,  I argue  not 


Against  Heaven’s  hand  or  vyill,  nor  bate  a jot 
Of  heart  or  hope;  but  still  bear  up,  and  steer 
Right  onward." 

Sovvet.  to  Cyriac  Skinner .] 


ST.  PHILIP  AND  ST.  JAMES.  259 

Call’d  thee  to  take  his  last  farewell,*  j 

Teaching  the  Church  with  joy  to  tell  l 

The  story  of  your  love  restored. 

O then  the  glory  and  the  bliss, 

When  all  that  pain’d  or  seem’d  amiss 
Shall  melt  with  earth  and  sin  away  ! 

When  saints  beneath  their  Saviour’s  eye, 

Fill’d  with  each  other’s  company, 

Shall  spend  in  love  the  eternal  day ! 


ST.  PHILIP  AND  ST.  JAMES.  + 

[MAY  1.] 

^Let  the  brother  of  low  degree  rejoice  in  that  he  is  s 
) exalted ; but  the  rich,  in  that  he  is  made  low. — St.  s 
; James  i.  9,  10.  [ Epistle  for  the  Day .] 

[O  Almighty  God,  whom  truly  to  know  is  everlasting  ^ 
i life  ; grant  us  perfectly  to  know  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  < 
l to  be  the  way,  the  truth  and  the  life ; that  following  ? 
) the  steps  of  thy  holy  Apostles,  Saint  Philip  and  Saint  s 
' James,  we  may  steadfastly  walk  in  the  way  that  leadeth  / 
; to  eternal  life,  through  the  same  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  ^ 

> our  Lord.  Jlmen.] 

Dear  is  the  morning  gale  of  spring, 

And  dear  th’  autumnal  eve; 

But  few  delights  can  summer  bring 
A poet’s  crown  to  weave. 

, * [It  is  delightful  to  see  that  as  the  first  of  the  two  | 

t texts  quoted  as  a motto  to  these  verses,  exhibits  the  ( 
\ apostles  as  men  in  their  contention,  the  second  re-  ? 

> presents  them  as  Christian  men  in  their  reconciliation.  5 
) Of  the  same  Mark,  St.  Paul  elsewhere  speaks  as  being  £ 

with  him  in  his  imprisonment  at  Rome,  and  being  a ) 

• ‘‘ comfort”  to  him. — Col.  iv.  11.]  s 

' \ [Philip,  a fisherman  of  Bethsaida.  the  city  of  \ 

’ Andrew  and  Peter,  was  the  first  disciple  whom  our  ( 


$260  ST.  PHILIP  AND  ST.  JAMES. 

Her  bowers  are  mute,  her  fountains  dry, 

And  ever  fancy’s  wing 
Speeds  from  beneath  her  cloudless  sky, 

To  autumn  or  to  spring. 

Sweet  is  the  infant’s  waking  smile, 

And  sweet  the  old  man’s  rest — 

But  middle  age  by  no  fond  wile. 

No  soothing  calm  is  blest. 

Still  in  the  world’s  hot  restless  gleam 
She  plies  her  weary  task, 

While  vainly  for  some  pleasant  dream 
Her  wandering  glances  ask. 

O shame  upon  thee,  listless  heart, 

So  sad  a sigh  to  heave, 

As  if  thy  Saviour  had  no  part 

In  thoughts  that  make  thee  grieve  ; 

As  if  along  his  lonesome  way 
He  had  not  borne  for  thee 
Sad  languors  through  the  summer  day, 

Storms  on  the  wintry  sea. 

Youth’s  lightning  flash  of  joy  secure 
Pass’d  seldom  o’er  His  sprite, — 

A well  of  serious  thought  and  pure, 

Too  deep  for  earthly  light. 

$ Saviour  called,  and  was  numbered  with  the  twelve  \ 
5 Apostles.  James,  also  one  of  the  twelve,  is  called  in  ; 
( Scripture  the  son  of  Alpheus,  or  Cleophas,  and  also  s 
\ the  brother  of  our  Lord — that  is,  his  near  kinsman,  l 

I their  mothers  being  sisters.  He  is  called  James  the  $ 
less  (either  in  reference  to  his  stature,  or  his  age,  or  $ 
perhaps  his  inferior  prominence  in  the  Gospel),  to  dis- 
tinguish him  from  James  the  greater,  the  son  of  Zebe- 
dee.  He  was  also  surnamed  the  Just.  He  wrote  the  t 
general  Epistle  which  bears  his  name,  and  was  the  first  £ 
Bishop  of  Jerusalem.] 


ST.  PHILIP  AND  ST.  JAMES.  261  £ 


No  spring  was  His— no  fairy  gleam— 
For  He  by  trial  knew 
How  cold  and  bare  what  mortals  dream, 
To  worlds  where  all  is  true.* 


Then  grudge  not  thou  the  anguish  keen 
Which  makes  thee  like  thy  Lord, 
And  learn  to  quit  with  eye  serene 
Thy  youth’s  ideal  hoard. 

Thy  treasured  hopes  and  raptures  high— 
Unmurmuring  let  them  go, 

Nor  grieve  the  bliss  should  quickly  fly 
Which  Christ  disdain’d  to  know. 

Thou  shalt  have  joy  in  sadness  soon  ; 

The  pure,  calm  hope  be  thine, 
Which  brightens  like  the  eastern  moon, 
As  day’s  wild  lights  decline. 

Thus,  souls,  by  nature  pitch’d  too  high, 
By  sufferings  plunged  too  low, 

Meet  in  the  Church’s  middle  sky, 

Half  way  ’twixt  joy  and  wo, 


To  practise  there  the  soothing  lay 
That  sorrow  best  relieves  : 
Thankful  for  all  God  takes  away, 
Humbled  by  all  He  gives. 


* [To,  compared  with  ] 


>262 


ST.  BARNABAS. 


ST. BARNABAS* 

[JUNE  11.] 

The  Son  of  consolation,  a Levite. — Acts  iv.  36. 

[O  Lord  God  Almighty,  who  didst  endue  thy  holy  ! 

< Apostle  Barnabas  with  singular  gifts  of  the  Holy  I 
2 Ghost;  leave  us  not,  we  beseech  thee,  destitute  of  thy  < 

manifold  gifts,  nor  yet  of  grace  to  use  them  alway  to  < 

< thy  honour  and  glory,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  { 
| Amen.] 

The  world’s  a room  of  sickness,  where  each  \ 
heart 

Knows  its  own  anguish  and  unrest ; 

The  truest  wisdom  there,  and  noblest  art, 

Is  his,  who  skills  of  comfort  best : 

Whom  by  the  softest  step  and  gentlest  tone 
Enfeebled  spirits  own, 

And  love  to  raise  the  languid  eye, 

When,  like  an  angel’s  wing,  they  feel  him  fleeting 
by:— 

Feel  only — for  in  silence  gently  gliding 
Fain  would  he  shun  both  ear  and  sight,  . 

’Twixt  prayer  and  watchful  love  his  heart  j 
dividing, 

A nursing  father  day  and  night.f 

* [Joses,  afterwards  called  Barnabas,  was  a Jew  of  [ 
Cyprus.  From  the  sale  of  his  estates,  and  contribution  < 
of  the  value,  for  the  relief  of  the  poor,  at  the  time  of  ? 
his  conversion  to  the  Christian  faith,  he  received  the  5 
latter  name,  which  signifies  “ son  of  consolation.”  He  < 
is  called  in  Scripture  an  Apostle,  though  not  one  of  the  5 
twelve,  and  was  much  associated  wit’h  St.  Paul  in  the  ] 
work  of  edifying  the  Church.] 
t [Can  there  be  imagined  a delineation  more  delight-  s 
than  this  of  the  pastoral  visitation  of  the  sick  Tj  > 


ful 


ST.  BARNAE  AS. 


263  \ 


Such  were  the  tender  arms,  where  cradled  lay, 
In  her  sweet  natal  day. 

The  Church  of  Jesus  ; such  the  love 
He  to  his  chosen  taught  for  His  dear  widow’d  \ 
Dove. 

Warm’d  underneath  the  Comforter’s  safe  wing  £ 
They  spread  th’  endearing  warmth  around  : 
Mourners,  speed  here  your  broken  hearts  to  \ 
bripg, 

Here  healing  dews  and  balms  abound  : 

Here  are  soft  hands  that  cannot  bless  in  vain, 
By  trial  taught  your  pain: 

Here  loving  hearts,  that  daily  know 
] The  heavenly  consolations  they  on  you  bestow. 

Sweet  thoughts  are  theirs,  that  breathe  serenest  l 
calms. 

Of  holy  offerings  timely  paid,* 

Of  fire  from  heaven  to  bless  their  votive  alms 
And  passions  on  God’s  altar  laid. 

The  world  to  them  is  closed,  and  now  they  shine  ^ 
With  rays  of  love  divine, 

Through  darkest  nooks  of  this  dull  earth 
> Pouring,  in  showery  times,  their  glow  of  “ quiet  l 
mirth.” 

New  hearts  before  their  Saviour’s  feet  to  lay, 
This  is  their  first,  their  dearest  joy ; 

Their  next,  from  heart  to  heart  to  clear  the  { 
way,t 

For  mutual  love  without  alloy : 

* Acts  iv.  37.  Having  land,  he  sold  it,  and  brought  \ 
? the  money,  and  laid  it  at  the  Apostles’  feet.  < 

) f Acts  ix.  27.  Barnabas  took  him,  and  brought  him  < 
$ (Saul)  to  the  Apostles.  [It  is  said  that  Barnabas  and  > 
£ Saul  were  fellow-disciples  of  Gamaliel,  and  hence  £ 
? their  acquaintance.] 


Never  so  blest,  as  when  in  Jesus’  roll 
They  write  some  hero-soul. 

More  pleased  upon  his  brightening  road 
[ To  wait,  than  if  their  own  with  all  his  radiance  \ 
glow’d. 

O happy  spirits,  mark’d  by  God  and  man 
Their  messages  of  love  to  bear,* 

What  though  long  since  in  heaven  your  brows  \ 
began 

The  genial  amaranth  wreath  to  wear, 

And  in  th’  eternal  leisure  of  calm  love 
Ye  banquet  there  above, 

Yet  in  your  sympathetic  heart 
j We  and  our  earthly  griefs  may  ask  and  hope  a \ 
part. 

Comfort’s  true  sons ! amid  the  thoughts  of  down  | 
That  strew  your  pillow  of  repose, 

Sure,  ’t  is  one  joy  to  muse,  how  ye  unknown 
By  sweet  remembrance  soothe  our  woes, 

And  how  the  spark  ye  lit,  of  heavenly  cheer, 
Lives  in  our  embers  here, 

Where’er  the  Cross  is  borne  with  smiles, 

; Or  lighten’d  secretly  by  love’s  endearing  wiles  : 

Where’er  one  Levite  in  the  temple  keeps 
The  watch-fire  of  his  midnight  prayer, 

Or  issuing  thence,  the  eyes  of  mourners  steeps  $ 
In  heavenly  balm,  fresh  gather’d  there  ; ; 

Thus  saints,  that  seem  to  die  in  earth’s  rude  \ 
strife, 

Only  win  double  life ; 

They  have  but  left  our  weary  ways 
\ To  live  in  memory  here,  in  heaven  by  love  and  \ 
J praise. 

* Acts  xi.  22  ; xiii.  2. 


ST.  JOHN  BAPTIST’S  DAY. 


f 

265  < 


*' 


ST.  JOHN  BAPTIST’S  DAT.* 


[JUNE  24.] 


Behold  I will  send  you  Elijah  the  prophet,  before  the 
great  and  terrible  day  of  the  Lord  ; and  he  shall  turn 


I 266 


ST.  JOHN  BAPTIST  S DAY. 


Methinks  we  need  him  once  again, 

[ That  favour’d  seer— but  where  shall  he  be  found? 

By  Cherith’s  side  we  seek  in  vain, 

$ In  vain  on  Carmel’s  green  and  lonely  mound  : 
Angels  no  more 
From  Sinai  soar, 

On  his  celestial  errands  bound. 

But  wafted  to  her  glorious  place 
| By  harmless  fire,  among  the  ethereal  thrones, 

' His  spirit  with  a dear  embrace 
\ Thee  the  loved  harbinger  of  Jesus  owns, 

Well  pleased  to  view 
Her  likeness  true, 

And  trace,  in  thine,  her  own  deep  tones. 
Deathless  himself,  he  joys  with  thee 

I To  commune  how  a faithful  martyr  dies, 

And  in  the  blest  could  envy  be, 

He  would  behold  thy  wounds  with  envious  eyes. 
Star  of  our  morn, 

Who  yet  unborn* 

\ Didst  guide  our  hope,  where  Christ  should  rise. 

\ Now  resting  from  your  jealous  care 
\ For  sinners,  such  as  Eden  cannot  know, 

Ye  pour  for  us  your  mingled  prayer, 

\ No  anxious  fear  to  damp  affection’s  glow, 

Love  draws  a cloud 
From  you  to  shroud 
> Rebellion’s  mystery  here  below, 
j And  since  we  see,  and  not  afar, 

\ The  twilight  of  the  great  and  dreadful  day, 
f Why  linger,  till  Elijah’s  car 
( Stoop  from  the  clouds  ? Why  sleep  ye  ? rise  and 
P^y, . 

* St.  Luke  i.  44.  The  Babe  leaped  in  her  womb  for 
) joy. 


ST.  JOHN  BAPTIST’S  DAY. 


267  < 


Ye  heralds  seal’d 
In  camp  or  field 

Your  Saviour’s  banner  to  display. 

Where  is  the  lore  the  Baptist  taught, 
i The  soul  unswerving  and  the  fearless  tongue  7* * * § 
The  much-enduring  wisdom,  sought 
> By  lonely  prayer  the  haunted  rocks  among  7 
Who  counts  it  gainj 
Ilis  light  should  wane, 

So  the  whole  world  to  Jesus  throng  7 
Thou  Spirit  who  the  Church  didst  lend 
$ Her  eagle  wings,  to  shelter  in  the  wild,J 
We  pray  thee,  ere  the  Judge  descend, 

\ With  flames  like  these,  all  bright  and  undefiled, 
Her  watch-fires  light, 

To  guide  aright 

Our  weary  souls,  by  earth  beguiled. 

So  glorious  let  thy  pastors  shine, 

$ That  by  their  speaking  lives  the  world  may  learn 
First  filial  duty,  then  divine, § 

] That  sons  to  parents,  all  to  Thee  may  turn ; 

And  ready  prove 
In  fires  of  love, 

At  sight  of  Thee,  for  aye  to  burn. 

* [After  his  example,  says  the  Church,  in  the  collect 
for  this  day,  “ constantly  speak  the  truth,  boldly  re- 
buke vice,  and  patiently  suffer  for  the  truth’s  sake.”] 

t St.  John  iii.  30.  He  must  increase,  but  I must  de- 
; crease. 

t Revelation  xii.  14. 

§ Malachi  iv.  6.  He  shall  turn  the  heart  of  the 
fathers  to  the  children,  and  the  heart  of  the  children 
to  the  fathers. 

St.  Luke  i.  17.  To  turn  the  hearts  of  the  fathers  to 
the  children,  and  the  disobedient  to  the  wisdom  of  the 
(just ; to  make  ready  a people  prepared  for  the  Lord. 


1 268  st.  Peter’s  day. 


ST.  PETER’S  DAT.* 

[JUNE  29.J 

, When  Herod  would  have  brought  him  out,  the  same 

> night  Peter  was  sleeping.  — Acts  xii.  6.  [Scripture 

< for  the  Epistle .] 

? [O  Almighty  God,  who,  by  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ, 

> didst  give  to  thy  Apostle  Saint  Peter  many  excellent 
\ gifts,  and  commandedst  him  earnestly  to  feed  thy  flock ; 

> make.  We  beseech  thee,  all  Bishops  and  Pastors  dili- 

> gently  to  preach  thy  holy  Word,  and  the  people  obe- 

> diently  to  follow  the  same,  that  they  may  receive  the 

> crown  of  everlasting  glory,  through  Jesus  Christ  our 
l Lord.  Amen.} 

Thou  thrice  denied,  yet  thrice  beloved,! 

Watch  by  thine  own  forgiven  friend ; 

In  sharpest  perils  faithful  proved, 

Let  his  soul  love  thee  to  the  end. 

The  prayer  is  heard— else  why  so  deep 
His  slumber  on  the  eve  of  death 

*'  [Peter,  a native  and  fisherman  of  Bethsaida,  was 
the  brother  of  Andrew,  and  resided  in  Capernaum. 

> He  was  among  the  first  followers  of  Jesus,  and  one 
( of  the  twelve  Apostles.  To  his  name  Simon,  Jesus 

added  that  of  Peter  (or  Cephas),  the  one  Greek,  and 
the  other  the  Hebrew  name  for  rock.  He,  with  James  ! 
f the  greater  and  John,  was  the  most  favoured  of  the 

< Apostles.  He  was  illustrious  for  his  zeal  and  activity, 

! as  also  for  his  denial  of  his  Lord,  and  subsequent  re- 
£ pentance.  He  was  more  especially  the  Apostle  of  the 
( Jews,  as  Paul  was  of  the  Gentiles.  His  labours  in 

Elanting  the  Gospel  were  great  and  successful.  He 
as  left  two  general  Epistles.] 
t St.  Johnsxxi.  15 — 17. 

t [His  being  found  sleeping,  beautifully  illustrates 
his  Chrii 


( his  Christian  calmness  and  composure.] 


st.  peter’s  day.  269  ] 

And  wherefore  smiles  he  in  his  sleep 
As  one  who  drew  celestial  breath? 

He  loves  and  is  beloved  again — 

Can  his  soul  choose  but  be  at  rest? 

Sorrow  hath  fled  away,  and  pain 
Dares  not  invade  the  guarded  nest, 

He  dearly  loves,  and  not  alone : 

For  his  wing’d  thoughts  are  soaring  high 

Where  never  yet  frail  heart  was  known 
To  breathe  in  vain  affection’s  sigh. 

He  loves  and  weeps— but  more  than  tears 
Have  seal’d  thy  welcome  and  his  love — 

One  look  lives  in  him,  and  endears 
Crosses  and  wrongs  where’er  he  rove : 

That  gracious  chiding  look,*  Thy  call 
To  win  him  to  himself  and  Thee, 

Sweetening  the  sorrow  of  his  fall, 

Which  else  were  rued  tdo  bitterly. 

Even  through  the  veil  of  sleep  it  shines, 

The  memory  of  that  kindly  glance  ; — 

The  Angel  watching  by  divines, 

And  spares  awhile  his  blissful  trance. 

Or  haply  to  his  native  laket 
His  vision  wafts  him  back,  to  talk 

With  Jesus,  ere  his  flight  he  takes, 

As  in  that  solemn  evening  walk, 

When  to  the  bosom  of  his  friend, 

The  Shepherd,  He  whose  name  is  Good, 


* St.  Luke  xxii.  61. 
t [See  the  passage  here  so  happily  alluded  to.  John  \ 
i xxi.  15 — 17.] 


£ 270 


ST.  PETER  S DAY. 


Did  His  dear  lambs  and  sheep  commend, 
Both  bought  and  nourish’d  with  His  blood : 

Then  laid  on  him  th’  inverted  tree,* * * § 

Which,  firm  embraced  with  heart  and  arm, 

Might  cast  o’er  hone  and  memory, 

O’er  life  and  death,  its  awful  charm. 

With  brightening  heart  he  bears  it  on, 

His  passport  through  the  eternal  gates, 

To  his  sweet  home — so  nearly  won, 

He  seems,  as  by  the  door  he  waits, 

The  unexpressive  notes  to  heart 
Of  angel  song  and  angel  motion, 

Rising  and  falling  on  the  ear 
Like  waves  in  Joy’s  unbounded  ocean. 

His  dream  is  changed— the  tyrant’s  voice 
Calls  to  that  last  of  glorious  deeds — 

But  as  he  rises  to  rejoice, 

Not  Herod,  but  an  angel  leads.}; 

He  dreams  he  sees  a lamp  flash  bright, § 
Glancing  around  his  prison  room, — 

But  ’t  is  a gleam  of  heavenly  light 
That  fills  up  all  the  ample  gloom. 

The  flame,  that  in  a few  short  years 
Deep  through  the  chambers  of  the  dead 


* [He  is  said  to  have  been  crucified  with  his  head  s 
? downwards.] 

t [So  Milton  of  his  dead  Lycidas, 

“ And  hears  the  unexpressive  nuptial  song, 

In  the  blest  kingdoms  meek  of  joy  and  love.”] 
t [And  behold  the  Angel  of  the  Lord  came  upon  \ 
£ him.]  | 

§ [And  a light  shined  in  the  prison.] 


\ ST.  JAMES’  DAY.  271  j 


Shall  pierce,  and  dry  the  fpunt  of  tears, 
Is  waving  o’er  his  dungeon-bed. 

Touch’d  he  upstarts— his  chains  unbind—* 
Through  darksome  vault,  up  massy  stair, 
His  dizzy,  doubting  footsteps  wind 
To  freedom  and  cool  moonlight  air. 

Then  all  himself,  all  joy  and  calm, 

Though  for  awhile  his  hand  forego, 

Just  as  it  touch’d  the  martyr’s  palm, 

He  turns  him  to  his  task  below ; 

The  pastoral  staff,  the  keys  of  heaven, 

To  wield  awhile  in  gray-hair’d  might, 
Then  from  hjs  cross  to  spring  forgiven, 

And  follow  Jesus  out  of  sight. 


ST.  JAMES'  DAT.t 
< [JULY  25.]  | 

1'  Ye  shall  indeed  drink  of  my  cup,  and  be  baptized  ? 

with  the  baptism  that  I am  baptized  with  : but  to  sit  on  ) 
my  right  hand  and  on  my  left  is  not  mine  to  give,  but  L 
it  shall  be  given  to  them  for  whom  it  is  prepared  of  my  $ 
Father.— St.  Matthew. xx.  23.  [Gospel  for  the  Day.] 

> [Grant,  O merciful  God,  that  as  thine  holy  Apostle  < 
< Saint  James,  leaving  his  father  and  all  that  he  had,  > 
? wi:hout  delay  was  obedient  unto  the  calling  of  thy  Son  ] 
S Jesus  Christ,  and  followed  him  ; so  we,  forsaking  all  t 
( worldly  and  carnal  affections,  maybe  evermore  ready  ; 
> to  follow  thy  holy  commandments,  through  Jesus  < 
s Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.]  ? 

> Sit  down  and  take  thy  fill  of  joy  < 

> At  God’s  right  hand,  a bidden  guest,  < 

\ * [See  the  whole  passage  here  so  finely  paraphrased,  l 

? Acts  xii.  6— 19.]  < 

^ t [James  the  greater,  the  son  of  Zebedee,  was 


\ 272 


ST.  JAMES’  DAY. 


Drink  of  the  cup  that  cannot  cloy, 

Eat  of  the  bread  that  cannot  waste. 

0 great  Apostle  ! rightly  now 

Thou  readest  all  thy  Saviour  meant. 
What  time  His  grave  yet  gentle  brow 
In  sweet  reproof  on  thee  was  bent. 

“ Seek  ye  to  sit  enthroned  by  me? 

Alas  ! ye  know  not  what  ye  ask. 

The  first  in  shame  and  agony, 

The  lowest  in  the  meanest  task — 

This  can  ye  be  ? and  can  ye  drink 
The  cup  that  I in  tears  must  steep, 

Nor  from  the  whelming  waters  shrink, 
That  o’er  me  roll  so  dark  and  deep  ?” 

“We  can — thine  are  we,  dearest  Lord, 

In  glory  and  in  agony, 

To  do  and  suffer  all  Thy  word ; 

Only  be  Thou  for  ever  nigh.” — 

“ Then  be  it  so — my  cup  receive. 

And  of  my  woes  baptismal  taste: 

But  for  the  crown  that  angels  weave 
For  those  next  me  in  glory  placed, 

1 give  it  not  by  partial  love  ; 

But  in  my  Father’s  book  are  writ 
What  names  on  earth  shall  lowliest  prove, 
That  they  in  heaven  may  highest  sit.” 


\ fisherman  of  Galilee.  Called  by  Christ,  both  he  and  $ 
£ his  brother  John  straightway  followed  him.  They  < 
i were  named  by  our  Lord,  Boanerges,  orsons  of  thun-  ? 
S der,  expressive  of  their  zeal  and  devotion  to  his  cause  ; S 

< and  with  Peter  enjoyed  his  chief  confidence.  He  was  < 
> thefirsi  of  the  twelve  Apostles  who  suffered  martyrdom,  £ 

< being  slain,  by  command  of  Herod,  with  a sword.] 


+ • 


st.  James’  day. 


273  ; 


Take  up  the  lesson,  O my  heart ; 

Thou  Lord  of  meekness,  write  it  there ; 
Thine  own  meek  self  to  me  impart, 

Thy  lofty  hope,  thy  lowly  prayer. 

If  ever  on  the  mount  with  Thee 
I seem  to  soar  in  vision  bright, 

'vith  thoughts  of  coming  agony* 

Stay  thou  the  too  presumptuous  flight : 
Gently  along  the  vale  of  tears 
Lead  me  from  Tabor’s  sun  bright  steep. 

Let  me  not  grudge  a few  short  years 
With  Tire  toward  heaven  to  walk  and  weep : 

Too  happy,  on  my  silent  path, 

If  now  and  then  allow’d — with  Thee 
Watching  some  placid  holy  death — 

Thy  secret  work  of  love  to  see ; 

But,  oh!  most  happy,  should  thy  call, 

Thy  welcome  call,  at  last  be  given— 

“ Come  where  thou  long  hast  stored  thy  all. 
Come  see  thy  place  prepared  in  heaven.” 


St.  Matthew  xvii.  12.  “ Likewise  shall  also  the  ] 

> Son  of  man  suffer  of  them.”  This  was  just  after  the  / 

> transfiguration. 


i 274 


ST.  BARTHOLOMEW. 


ST.  BA'RTH  O-L  OMEW.* 

[august  24.] 

Jesus  answered  and  said  unto  him,  Because  I said  \ 
! unto  thee,  I saw  thee  under  the  fig  tree,  believest  thou  1 ) 
! thou  shall  see  greater  things  than  these. — St.  John  > 
l 50.  * 

[O  Almighty  and  everlasting  God,  who  didst  give  to  ^ 
thine  Apostle  Bartholomew  grace  truly  to  believe  and  > 
to  preach  thy  word  ; grant,  we  beseech  thee,  unto  thy  l 

> Church,  to  love  that  word  which  he  believed,  and  ? 
| both  to  preach  and  receive  the  same,  through  Jesus  > 

> Christ  our  Lord.  Jlrnen.] 

Hold  up  thy  mirror  to  the  sun, 

And  thou  shalt  need  an  eagle’s  gaze, 

So  perfectly  the  polish’d  stone 
Gives  back  the  glory  of  his  rays : 

Turn  it,  and  it  shall  paint  as  true 
The  soft  green  of  the  vernal  earth, 

And  each  small  flower  of  bashful  hue, 

That  closest  hides  its  lowly  birth. 

Our  mirror  is  a blessed  book, 

Where  out  from  each  illumined  page 

We  see  one  glorious  Image  look, 

All  eyes  to  dazzle  and  engage, 


* [Bartholomew,  one  of  the  twelve  Apostles,  is  ge-  £ 
! nerally  believed  to  have  been  that  Nathaniel  of  whom  S 
i Jesus  said,  “ Behold  an  Israelite  indeed,  in  whom  is  \ 
' no  guile.”] 


ST.  BARTHOLOMEW. 


275 


The  Son  of  God  : and  that  indeed 
• We  see  Him  as  He  is,  we  know. 

Since  in  the  same  bright  glass  we  read 
The  very  life  of  things  below. — 

Eye  of  God’s  word  !'*  where’er  we  turn, 

Ever  upon  us ! thy  keen  gaze 
Can  all  the  depths  of  sin  discern, 

Unravel  every  bosom’s  maze  : 

Who  that  has  felt  thy  glance  of  dread 
Thrill  through  his  heart’s  remotest  cells, 
About  his  path,  about  his  bed, 

Can  doubt  what  spirit  in  thee  dwells? 

“ What  word  is  this  ? Whence  know’st  thou 
me  ?” 

All  wondering  cries  the  humbled  heart, 

To  hear  thee  that  deep  mystery, 

The  knowledge  of  itself,  impart. 

The  veil  is  raised  ; who  runs  may  read,  < 
By  its  own  light  the  truth  is  seen, 

And  soon  the  Israelite  indeed 
Bows  down  t’  adore  the  Nazarene. 

So  did  Nathaniel,  guileless  man, 

At  once,  not  shame-faced  or  afraid. 

Owning  him  God,  who  so  could  scan 
His  musings  in  the  lonely  shade; 

* “ The  position  before  us  is,  that  we  ourselves,  and  £ 
$ such  as  we,  are  the  very  persons  whom  Scripture  i 

< speaks  of : and  to  whom,  as  men,  in  every  variety  of  \ 

> persuasive  form,  it  makes  its  condescending  though  > 
( celestial  appeal.  The  .point  worthy  of  observation  is,  ( 
) to  note  how  a book  of  the  description  and  the  com-  ? 
s pass  which  we  have  represented  Scripture  to  be,  pos-  s 
( sesses  this  versatility  of  power ; this  eye,  like  that  of  a f 

> portrait,  uniformly  fixed  upon  us,  turn  where  we  £ 

< will .” — Miller's  Bampton  Lectures,  p.  128. 


\ 276 


ST.  BARTHOLOMEW. 


In  his  own  pleasant  fig  tree’s  shade,* 
Which  by  his  household  fountain  grew. 
Where  at  noon-day  his  prayer  he  made, 
To  know  God  better  than  he  knew. 

Oh  ! happy  hours  of  heaven-ward  thought ! 

How  richly  crown’d!  how  well  improved  ! 
In  musing  o’er  the  law  he  taught. 

In  waiting  for  the  Lord  he  loved. 

We  must  not  mar  with  earthly  praise 
What  God’s  approving  word  hath  seal'd ^ 
Enough,  if  right  our  feeble  lays 
Take  up  the  promise  He  reveal’d ; 

“The  child  like  faith,  that  asks  not  sight, 
Waits  not  for  wonder  or  for  sign, 
Believes,  because  it  loves,  aright — 

Shall  see  things  greater,  things  divine. 
Heaven  to  that  gaze  shall  open  wide,f 
And  brightest  angels  to  and  fro 
On  messages  of  love  shall  glide 
’Twixt  God  above,  and  Christ  below.” 

So  still  the  guileless  man  is  blest, 

To  him  all  crooked  paths  are  straight, 
Him  on  his  way  to  endless  rest 
Fresh,  ever  growing  strengths  await. J 

God’s  witnesses,  a glorious  host, 

Compass  him  daily  like  a cloud  ; 


* [“  Before  that  Philip  called  thee,  when  thou  wast  > 
j under  the  fig-tree,  1 saw  thee.”]' 

t [“  Hereafter  ye  shall  see  heaven  opened,  and  the  $ 
$ angels  of  God  ascending  and  descending  upon  the  Son  < 
of  man.*'] 

I t Psalm  lxxxiv.  7.  They  shall  go  from  strength  to  ^ 
; strength. 


ST.  MATTHEW. 

Martyrs  and  seers,  the  saved  and  lost, 
Mercies  and  judgments  cry  aloud. 

Yet  shall  to  him  the  still  small  voice, 
That  first  into  his  bosom  found 
A way,  and  fix’d  his  wavering  choice, 
Nearest  and  dearest  ever  sound. 


277; 


ST.  MATTHEW.* 

[SEPTEMBER  21.] 

And  after  these  things,  He  went  forth  and  saw  a ; 

> publican  named  Levi,  sitting  at  the  receipt  of  custom,  < 

< and  He  said  unto  Jiim,  Follow  me  : and  he  left  all,  \ 

\ rose  up,  and  followed  Him. — St.  Luke  v.  27,  28.  ^ 

/ [O  Almighty  God,  who  by  thy  blessed  Son  didst  call  \ 

< Matthew  from  the  receipt  of  custom,  to  be  an  Apostle  ? 

? and  Evangelist;  grant  us  grace  to  forsake  all  covetous  £ 
wlesires,  and  inordinate  love  of  riches;  and  to  follow  r 
( the  same  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ,  who  liveth  and  reignefh  (( 
\ with  thee  and  the  Holy  Ghost,  one  God,  world  with-  t 
J out  end.  Jlmen.}  > 

Ye  hermits  blest,  ye  holy  maids*  ] 

The  nearest  heaven  on  earth,  $ 

Who  talk  with  God  in  shadowy  gladeE,  \ 
Free  from  rude  rare  and  mirth  ; 

To  whom  some  viewless  teacher  brings  < 
The  secret  lore  of  rural  things, 

* [Matthew,  called  also  Levi,  was  a publican,  or  / 
? collector  of  tax^s,  under  the  Roman  government.  He  jj 

> was  sitting  “at  the  receipt  of  custom,”  when,  called  ( 

< by  Jesus  to  be  his  disciple,  he  arose  and  followed  him.  ) 

> He  was  appointed  one  of  the  twelve  Apostles  of  our  £ 

> Lord,  and  wrote  one  of  the  four  Gospels.]  £ 


278  ST.  MATTHEW. 

i The  moral  of  each  fleeting  cloud  and  gale, 

\ The  whispers  from  above,  that  haunt  the  twilight  ^ 
) vale; 

| Say,  when  in  pity  ye  have  gazed 
On  the  wreathed  smoke  afar, 
t That  o’er  some  town,  like  mist  upraised, 

) Hung,  hiding  sun  and  star, 

I Then  as  ye  turn’d  your  weary  eye 
l To  the  green  earth  and  open  sky, 

J Were  ye  not  fain  to  doubt  how  faith  could  j 
\ /dwell 

Amid  that  dreary  glare,  in  this  world’s  citadel  ? 
But  love’s  a flower  that  will  not  die 
For  lack  of  leafy  screen, 

And  Christian  hope  can  cheer  the  eye* 

That  ne’er  saw  vernal  green  ; 

Then  be  ye  sure  that  love  can  bless 
Even  in  this  crowded  loneliness, 

Where  ever-moving  myriads  seem  to  say, 

Go— thou  art  naught  to  us,  nor  we  to  thee— away!  j 
There  are  in  this  loud  stunning  tide 
Of  human  care  and  crime, 

With  whom  the  melodies  abide 
Of  th’  everlasting  chime  ; 

< Who  carry  music  in  their  heart 

Through  dusky  lane  and  wrangling  mart, 
Plying  their  daily  task  with  busier  feet, 

Because  their  secret  souls  a holy  strain  repeat. 

* [It  may  doubtless  be  believed  that  the  simplicity  ) 

* and  retirement  of  the  country  is  better  fitted  to  nourish  \ 

> and  increase  spiritual  religion  than  the  hurry  and  bus-  [ 
tie,  the  engrossing  occupation  and  artificial  assoCia-  \ 

l tions,  of  the  city.  Yet  in  ail  places  Christianity  has  < 

> found  its  true  disciples  ; and  its  pure  doctrines  and  ) 
s peaceful  precepts  are  adapted  for  man’s  reformation  ] 

<;  ansi  consolation  in  all  places  and  in  all  'conditions. J 


ST.  MATTHEW. 


279  $ 


How  sweet  to  them,  in  such  brief  rest 
As  thronging  cares  afford, 

In  thought  to  wander,  fancy-blest, 

To  where  their  gracious  Lord, 

In  vain,  to  win  proud  Pharisees, 

Spake,  and  was  heard  by  fell  disease—* 

But  not  in  vain,  beside  yon  breezy  lake,f 
\ Bade  the  meek  publican  his  gainful  seat  forsake  : \ 

At  once  he  rose,  and  left  his  gold ; 

His  treasure  and  his  heart 
Transferr’d,  where  he  shall  safe  behold 
Earth  and  her  idols  part ; 

While  he  beside  his  endless  store 
Shall  sit,  and  floods  unceasing  pour 
Of  Christ’s  true  riches  o’er  all  time  and  space,  j 
( First  angel  of  his  Church,  first  steward  of  his  \ 
grace 

Nor  can  ye.  not  delight  to  think§ 

Where  he  vouchsafed  to  eat, 

How  the  Most  Holy  did  not  shrink 
From  touch  of  sinner’s  meat; 

What  worldly  hearts  and  hearts  impure 
Went  with  him  through  the  rich  man’s  door,  $ 


> * It  seems  from  St.  Matthew  ix.  8,  9,  that  the  call-  ? 

< ing  of  Levi  took  place  immediately  after  the  healing  £ 
\ of  the  paralytic  in  the  presence  of  the  Pharisees. 

t tThe  lake  of  Gennesaret,  by  the  side  of  which  the  5 
S custom-house  stood,  in  which  Matthew  exercised  his  \ 
) vocation.] 

t L3n,?eJ.-’-Messengert  Apostle.] 

§ [St.  Matthew  ix.  10.  “And  Levi  (Matthew)  made  < 
\ him  a great  feast  in  his  own  house.”  — Luke  v.  29.  ( 
s Matihew,  though  he  mentions  the  feast,  omits,  with  i 
^ becoming  modesty,  to  say  who  gave  it.] 


I 280 


ST.  MATTHEW. 


That  we  might  learn  of  Him  lost  souls  to  love, 
; And  view  his  least  and  worst  with  hope  to  meet 
above. 


These  gracious  lines  shed  Gospel  light 
On  Mammon’s  gloomiest  cells, 

As  on  some  city’s  cheerless  night 
The  tide  of  sun-rise  swells, 

Till  tower,  and  dome,  and  bridge-way  proud  ] 
Are  mantled  with  a golden  cloud,  £ 

And  to  wise  hearts  this  certain  hope  is  given  ; l 
“ No  mist  that  man  may  raise,  shall  hide  the  eye  !> 
of  Heaven.”  > 


And  oh!  if  even  on  Babel  shine 
Such  gleams  of  Paradise, 

Should  not  their  peace  be  peace  divine, 
Who  day  by  day  arise 
To  look  on  clearer  heavens,  and  scan 
The  work  of  God  untouch’d  by  man  ? 
Shame  on  us,  who  about  us  Babel  bear, 

J And  live  in  Paradise,  as  if  God  was  not  there ! 


ST.  MICHAEL  AND  ALL  ANGELS. 


281  : 


ST.  MICHAEL  AND  ALL  ANGELS.* 

[SEPTEMBER  29.] 

Are  they  not  all  ministering  spirits,  sent  forth  to  \ 
5 minister  for  them  who  shall  be  heirs  of  salvation  7—  \ 
) Hebrews  i.  14. 

[0  everlasting  God,  who  hast  ordained  and  consti-  \ 
l tuted  the  services  of  angel3  and  men  in  a wonderful  \ 
order;  mercifully  grant,  that  as  thy  holy  Angels  al-  j 
) ways  do  thee  service  in  heaven  ; so,  by  thy  appoint- 
l ment  they  may  succour  and  defend  us  on  earth, 

> through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

Ye  stars  that  round  the  Sun  of  righteousness 
In  g’orious  order  roll, 

With  harps  for  ever  strung,  ready  to  bless 
l God  for  each  rescued  soul, 

s Ye  eagle  spirits,  that  build  in  light  divine, 

> Oh  think  of  us  to-day, 
l Faint  warblers  of  this  earth,  that  would  combine  \ 

Our  trembling  notes  with  your  accepted  lay. 

J Your  amaranth  wreaths  were  earn’d  ; and  home- 
ward all, 

Flush’d  with  victorious  might, 
j Ye  might  have  sped  to  keep  high  festival, 

And  revel  in  the  light; 
l But  meeting  us,  weak  worldlings,  on  our  way, 

\ Tired  ere  the  fight  begun, 

\ Ye  turn’d  to  help  us  in  the  unequal  fray, 

| Remembering  whose  we  were,  how  dearly  won  : 


* [The  Church,  on  this  festival,  commemorates  the  ] 
S services  of  that  order  of  celestial  beings,  who  are  ap- 
\ pointed  to  minister  to  such  a3  shall  be  heirs  of  salva-  5 
> tion.  Michael  is  named  in  the  Scripture  as  the  arch-  £ 
l angel.l 


— 

$ 282  ST.  MICHAEL  AND  ALL  ANGELS. 


; Remembering  Bethlehem,  and  that  glorious  night  \ 
^ When  ye,  who  used  to  soar 

] Diverse  along  all  space  in  fiery  flight, 

( Came  thronging  to  adore 

( Your  God  new-born,  and  made  a sinner’s  child  ; 

As  if  the  stars  should  leave 
} Their  stations  in  the  far  ethereal  wild, 

| And  round  the  sun  a radiant  circle  weave. 

I'  Nor  less  your  lay  of  triumph  greeted  fair 
, Our  Champion  and  your  King, 

In  that  first  strife,  whence  Satan  in  despair 
Sunk  down  on  scathed  wing: 

Alone  He  fasted,  and  alone  He  fought ; 

But  when  his  toils  were  o’er 

I Ye  to  the  sacred  Hermit  duteous  brought 
Banquet  and  hymn,  your  Eden’s  festal  store. 

Ye  too,  when  lowest  in  th’  abyss  of  wo 
He  plunged  to  save  his  sheep, 

Were  leaning  from  your  golden  thrones  to  know  < 
The  secrets  of  that  deep  : 

But  clouds  were  on  his  sorrow:  one  alone 
l His  agonizing  call 

5 Summon’d  from  heaven,  to  still  that  bitterest  \ 
s groan,  <j 

< And  comfort  Him,  the  Comforter  of  all. 

j Oh!  highest  favour’d  of  all  spirits  create, 

? (If  right  of  thee  we  deem,) 

!>  How  didst  thou  glide  on  brightening  wing  elate 
'i  . To  meet  th’  unclouded  beam 
^ Of  Jesus  from  the  couch  of  darkness  rising  ! 

$ How  swell’d  thine  anthem’s  sound, 

With  fear  and  mightier  joy  weak  hearts  sur- 
5 prising, 

£ “ Your  God  is  risen,  and  may  not  here  be  found.”  < 


ST.  MICHAEL  AND  ALL  ANGELS. 


— f* 

283 


\ Pass  a few  days,  and  this  dull  darkling  globe 
i Must  yield  him  from  her  sight ; — 

> Brighter  and  brighter  streams  his  glory-robe, 

And  He  is  lost  in  light. 

\ Then,  when  through  yonder  everlasting  arch, 

Ye  in  innumerous  choir 

< Pour’d,  heralding  Messiah’s  conquering  march, 

< Linger’d  around  his  skirts  two  forms  of  fire  : 

With  us  they  stay’d,  high  warning  to  impart; 

] “ The  Christ  shall  come  again 

( Even  as  He  goes;  with  the  same  human  heart, 
With  the  same  godlike  train.” — 

| Oh  1 jealous  God ! how  could  a sinner  dare 
Think  on  that  dreadful  day, 

!But  that  with  all  thy  wounds  Thou  wilt  be  there, 
And  all  our  angel  friends  to  bring  Thee  on  thy 
way  ? 

( Since  to  thy  little  ones  is  given  such  grace, 

That  they  who  nearest  stand 
( Alway  to  God  in  heaven,  and  see  His  face, 

I Go  forth  at  His  command, 

To  wait  around  our  path  in  weal  or  wo, 

As  erst  upon  our  King, 

Set  thy  baptismal  seal  upon  our  brow, 

And  waft  us  heaven-ward  with  enfolding  wing  : 

(Grant,  Lord,  that  when  around  th’  expiring  j> 
world 

Our  seraph  guardians  wait, 

While  on  her  death-bed,  ere  to  ruin  hurl’d, 

She  owns  Thee,  all  too  late, 

They  to  their  charge  may  turn,  and  thankful  see  \ 
Thy  mark  upon  us  still ; 

Then  altogether  rise,  and  reign  with  Thee, 

And  all  their  holy  joy  o’er  contrite  hearts  fulfil ! 


< 284 


ST.  LUKE. 


ST.  LUKE.* 

[OCTOBER  18.] 

, Luke  the  beloved  physician,  and  Demas,  greet  you.  > 

> Colossians  iv.  14.  \ 

\ Demas  hath  forsaken  me,  having  loved  this  present  > 
? world.  Only  Luke  is  with  me.  — 2 Tim.  iv.  10,  ii.  £ 

> [Epistle  for  the  Day.] 

( [Almighty  God,  who  calledst  Luke  the  Physician, 
whose  praise  is  in  the  Gospel,  to  be  an  Evangelist  and 
) Physician  of  the  soul;  may  it  please  thee,  that  by  the 
( wholesome  medicines  of  the  doctrine  delivered  by  him, 

> all  the  diseases  of  our  souls  may  be  healed,  through 
] the  merits  of  thy  Son  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord,  jimen.] 

Two  clouds  before  the  summer  gale 
In  equal  race  fleet  o’er  the  sky ; 

Two  flowers,  when  wintry  blasts  assail,: 
Together  pine,  together  die. 

But  two  capricious  human  hearts— 

No  sage’s  rod  may  track  their  ways, 

No  eye  pursue  their  lawless  starts 
Along  their  wild  self-chosen  maze. 

He  only,  by  whose  sovereign  hand 
Even  sinners  for  the  evil  dayf 

Were  made— who  rules  the  world  he  plann’d, 
Turning  our  worst  his  own  good  way ; 


* [St.  Luke  is  said  to  have  been  born  at  Antioch. 

> He  was  a physician  ; and  after  his  conversion,  accom- 
panied St.  Paul.  He  wrote  a Gospel,  and  the  Acts  of  l 
[ the  Apostles.]  5 

t Proverbs  xvi.  4.  The  Lord  hath  made  all  things 
! for  himself,  yea,  even  the  wicked  for  the  day  of  evil. 


ST.  LUKE. 


He  only  can  the  cause  reveal, 

Why,  at  the  same  fond  bosom  fed, 

Taught  in  the  self-same  lap  to  kneel 
Till  the  same  prayer  were  duly  said. 

Brothers  in  blood  and  nurture  too, 
Aliens  in  heart  so  oft  should  prove  ; 

One  lose,  the  other  keep,  Heaven’s  clue  ; 
One  dwell  in  wrath,  and  one  in  love. 

He  only  knows,— ior  He  can  read 
The  mystery  of  the  wicked  heart, — 

Why  vainly  oft  our  arrows  speed 
When  aim’d  with  most  unerring  art: 

While  from  some  rude  and  powerless  arm 
A random  shaft  in  season  sent 

Shall  light  upon  some  lurking  harm, 

And  work  some  wonder  little  meant. 

Doubt  we,  how  souls  so  wanton  change, 
Leaving  their  own  experienced  rest  ? 

Needs  not  around  the  world  to  range  ; 
One  narrow  cell  may  teach  us  best. 

Look  in,  and  see  Christ’s  chosen  saint 
In  triumph  wear  his  Christ-like  chain  ; 

No  fear  lest  he  should  swerve  or  faint ; 

“ His  life  is  Christ,  his  death  is  gain.”  * 

Two  converts,  watching  by  his  side. 

Alike  his  love  and  greetings  share  ; 

Luke  the  beloved,  the  sick  soul’s  guide, 
And  Demas,  named  in  faltering  prayer. 

Pass  a few  years — look  in  once  more— 
The  saint  is  in  his  bonds  again ; 

* Philip,  i.  21. 


4*' 


•f- 


1 286 


Save  that  his  hopes  more  boldly  soar,* 

He  and  his  lot  unchanged  remain. 

But  only  Luke  is  with  him  now 
Alas!  that  even  the  martyr  s cell. 

Heaven’s  very  gate,  should  scope  allow 
For  the  false  world’s  seducing  spell. 

’Tis  sad— but  vet ’t  is  well,  be  sure, 

We  on  the  sight  should  muse  awhile, 

Nor  deem  our  shelter  all  secure 
Even  in  the  Church’s  holiest  aisle. 

Vainly  before  the  shrine  he  bends, 

Who  knows  not  the  true  pilgrim’s  part : 

The  martyr’s  cell  no  safety  lends 
To  him,  who  wants  the  martyr’s  heart. 

But  if  there  be,  who  follows  Paul 
As  Paul  his  Lord,  in  life  and  death, 

Where’er  an  aching  heart  may  call, 
Beady  to  speed  and  take  no  breath ; 

Whose  joy  is,  to  the  wandering  sheep 
To  tell  of  the  great  Shepherd’s'love  ;f 

To  learn  of  mourners  while  they  weep 
The  music  that  makes  mirth  above  ; 

Who  makes  the  Saviour  all  his  theme, 
The  Gospel  all  his  pride  and  praise— 


* In  the  Epistle  to  the  Philippians,  “ I know  that  1 j 
> shall  abide  and  continue  with  you  all: — I count  not  < 
myself  to  have  apprehended  ” — i.  25;  iii.  13.  ? 

In  2 Tim.,  “I  have  finished  my  course,”  &c.— iv.  \ 
j 7.  8. 

\ t The  Gospel  of  St.  Luke  abounds  most  in  such  ) 
< passages  as  the  parable  of  the  lost  sheep  ; such  as  dis-  ? 
? play  God’s  mercy  to  penitent  sinners.  > 


ST.  LUKE. 


287  £ 


Approach  : for  thou  canst  feel  the  gleam 
That  round  the  martyr’s  death-bed  plays  ; 

Thou  hast  an  ear  for  angel’s  songs, 

A breath  the  Gospel  trump  to  fill. 

And  taught  by  thee  the  Church  prolongs 
Her  hymns  of  high  thanksgiving  still.* 

Ah  ! dearest  Mother,  since  too  oft 
The  world  yet  wins  some  Demas  frail 
Even  from  thine  arms,  so  kind  and  soft, 
May  thy  tried  comforts  never  fail ! 


When  faithless  ones  forsake  thy  wing, 
Be  it  vouchsafed  thee  still  to  see 
Thy  true,  fond  nurslings  closer  cling, 
Cling  closer  to  their  Lord  and  thee. 


I * The  Christian  hymns  are  all  in  St.  Luke: 
$ Magnificat,  Benedictus,  and  Nunc  Dimittis. 


the  > 


| 288 


ST.  SIMON  AND  ST.  JUDE. 


ST.  SIMON  AND  ST.  JUDE.* 

I [OCTOBER  28.] 

< That  ye  should  earnestly  contend  fort  the  faith  which  < 
) was  once  delivered  unto  the  saints.  — St.  Jude  3.  j 
s [ Epistle  for  the  Day.] 

> [O  Almighty  God.  who  hast  built  thy  Church  upon  < 
? the  foundation  of  the  Apostles  and  Prophets,  Jesus  ? 
) Christ  himself  being  the  head  corner-stone ; grant  us  > 

< so  to  be  joined  together  in  unity  of  spirit  by  their  doc-  < 
? trine,  that  we  may  be  made  a holy  temple  acceptable  \ 
\ unto  thee,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Jlmen.] 

Seest  thou,  how  tearful  and  alone, 

And  drooping  like  a wounded  dove, 

The  cross  in  sight,  but  Jesus  gone, 

The  widow’d  Church  is  fain  to  rove  ? 

Who  is  at  hand  that  loves  the  Lord  ?J 
Make  haste,  and  take  her  home,  and  bring 
Thine  household  choir,  in  true  accord 
Their  soothing  hymns  for  her  to  sing. 


* [These  were  both  Apostles.  Simon  is  also  called 
] Zelotes,  and  the  Canaanite,  to  distinguish  him  from 
> Simon  Peter.  Jude,  called  Lebbeus  and  Thaddeus, 
was  the  brother  of  James  the  lees,  and  author  of  the 
< Epistle  which  bears  his  name.  There  is  a tradition 
\ that  they  laboured  and  suffered  martyrdom  together.] 

t eirayoivi^eaOai : — *'  be  very  anxious  for  it:”  ; 
“ feel  for  it  as  for  a friend  in  jeopardy.” 

t St.  John  xix.  27.  Then  saith  He  to  the  disciple,  ^ 
l Behold  thy  mother ; and  from  that  hour  that  disciple  ^ 
) took  her  to  his  own  home. 


\ ST.  SIMON  AND  ST.  JUDE.  289  \ 


Soft  on  her  fluttering  heart  shall  breathe 
The  fragrance  of  that  genial  isle, 

There  she  may  weave  her  funeral  wreath, 
And  to  her  own  sad  music  smile. 

The  spirit  of  the  dying  Son 

Is  there,  and  fills  the  holy  place 
With  records  sweet  of  duties  done, 

Of  pardon’d  foes,  and  cherish’d  grace. 

And  as  of  old  by  two  and  two* 

His  herald  saints  the  SaViour  sent 
To  soften  hearts  like  morning  dew, 
Where  He  to  shine  in  mercy  meant ; 

So  evermore  He  deems  his  name 
Best  honour’d  and  his  way  prepared, 
When  watching  by  his  altar-flame 
He  sees  his  servants  duly  pair’d. 

He  loves  when  age  and  youth  are  met, 
Fervent  old  age  and  youth  serene, 

Their  high  and  low7  in  concord  set 
For  sacred  song,  Joy’s  golden  mean. 

He  loves  when  some  clear  soaring  mind 
Is  drawn  by  mutual  piety 
To  simple  souls  and  unrefined, 

Who  in  life’s  shadiest  covert  lie. 

Or  if  perchance  a sadden’d  heart 
That  once  was  gay  and  felt  the  spring, 
Cons  slowly  o’er  its  alter’d  part, 

In  sorrow  and  remorse  to  sing, 

Thy  gracious  care  will  send  that  way 
Some  spirit  full  of  glee,  yet  taught 
To  hear  the  sight  of  dull  decay. 

And  nurse  it  with  all  pitying  thought; 

* St.  Mark  vi.  7.  St.  Luke  x.  1. 


j 290 


ST.  SIMON  AND  ST.  JUDE. 


Cheerful  as  soaring  lark,  and  mild* 

As  evening  blackbird’s  full-toned  lay, 

When  the  relenting  sun  has  smiled 
Bright  through  a whole  December  day. 

* [“Upon  such  a field  one  has  the  best  chance  of  > 
; hearing  the  matin  song  of  the  year.  While  the  morn-  < 

< ing  is  yet  cold  there  are  but  a tew  complaining  chirps,  < 
) and  the  birds  chiefiy  appear  in  short  fiights,  which  | 

< have  much  the  appearance  of  leaps  under  the  hedges.  ] 

< As  the  morning  gets  warm,  however,  a few  are  found  (> 
{ running  along  the  furrows,  and  one  brown  fellow,  < 
^perched  on  a clod,  partially  erecting  a crest  of  fea-  \ 
[ thers,  and  looking  around  him  with  a mingled  air  of  s 

< complacency  and  confidence,  utters  a * chur-ree’  in  an  ? 

< under  tone,  as  if  he  were  trying  the  lowest  and  the  } 
£ highest  notes  of  an  instrument.  The  notes  are  re-  j 

< strained,  but  they  have  enough  of  music  in  them  to  ; 
> cause  you  to  wish  for  a repetition.  That,  however,  \ 
\ does  not  in  general  come  ; but  instead  of  it  there  is  a l 

I1  single  ‘ churr’  murmured  from  a distance,  and  so  soft  5 
as  hardly  to  be  audible  ; and  the  bird  that  was  station-  ( 
ed  upon  the  clod  has  vanished,  nor  can  you  lor  some  > 
time  find  out  what  has  become  of  him.  His  flight  is  \ 
at  first  upward,  and  bears  some  resemblance  to  the  5 
smoke  of  a fire  on  a calm  day,  gradually  expanding  5 
into  a spiral  as  it  rises  above  the  surface.  But  no  ] 
sooner  has  he  gained  the  proper  elevation,  than  down  > 
4 showers  his  song,  filling  the  whole  air  with  the  most  < 
< cheerful  melody  ; and  you  feel  more  gay,  more  glee  ? 
> and  lifting  up  of  the  heart,  than  when  any  other  music  S 
s meets  your  ear.  < 

? The  opening  of  the  day  and  of  the  year  comes  fresh  < 
S to  your  fancy,  as  you  instinctively  repeat — 

< 4 Hark,  the  lark  at  heaven’s  gate  sings.* 

\ The  lark  indeed  is  the  signal  both  for  the  season  and  < 
j the  day.  The  very  first  sun  of  the  young  year  calls  < 
< up  the  lark  to  pour  his  song  from  the  sky.  Nor  can  5 
5 any  thing  be  more  in  harmony  with  the  situation  m < 
< which  we  find  it,  than  the  song  of  the  lark.  The  bird  5 
> is  the  very  emblem  of  freedom ; floating  in  the  thm  s 


These  are  the  tones  to  brace  and  cheer 
The  lonely  watcher  of  the  fold, 

When  nights  are  dark,  and  foemen  near, 
When  visions  fade  and  hearts  grow  cold. 

How  timely  then  a comrade’s  song 
Comes  floating  on  the  mountain  air. 
And  bids  thee  yet  be  bold  and  strong — 
Fancy  may  die,  but  Faith  is  there. 


ALL  SAINTS’  DAT.* 

[NOVEMBER  1.] 

Hurt  not  the  earth,  neither  the  sea,  nor  the  trees,  till  !> 
| we  have  sealed  the  servants  of  our  God  in  their  tore-  > 

> heads. — Revelation  vii.  3. 

[O  Almighty  God,  who  hast  knit  together  thine  elect  £ 
\ in  one  communion  and  fellowship,  in  the  mystical  body  > 
| of  thy  Son  Christ  our  Lord ; grant  us  grace  so  to  fol-  < 
! low  thy  blessed  Saints  in  all  virtuous  and  godly  living,  / 
| that  we  may  come  to  those  unspeakable  joys,  which  S 
' thou  hast  prepared  for  those  who  unfeignedly  love  \ 
I thee,  through  Jesus  Christ  our  Lord.  Amen.] 

; air,  with  spreading  tail,  and  outstretched  wings,  and  > 

; moving  its  little  head  delightedly,  first  to  the  one  side,  ? 

' and  then  to  the  other,  as  if  it  would  communicate  its  > 
) joy  around,  it  at  last  soars  to  such  an  elevation,  that  ( 
if  visible  at  ail,  it  is  a mere  dark  speck  in  the  blue  ? 
; vault  of  heaven,  and  carolling  over  the  young  year  or  s 

> the  young  day,  while  all  is  bustle  and  activity,  the  airy  ? 
wildness  of  the  song  makes  its  whole  character  more  S 
peculiar  and  striking.” — Mudie's  British  Naturalist, 

> ii.  pp.  1 10  to  114.] 

* [This  festival  is  appointed  for  the  commemoration  ? 
of  all  those  saints  and  martyrs  to  whom  no  particular  s 
) day  is  assigned.] 


Why  blow’st  thou  not,  thou  winery  wind, 
Now  every  leaf  is  brown  and  sere, 

And  idly  droops,  to  thee  resign’d, 

The  fading  chaplet  of  the  year  ? 

Yet  wears  the  pure  aerial  sky 
Her  summer  veil,  half  drawn  on  high, 

Of  silvery  haze,  and  dark  and  still 


How  quiet  shows  the  woodland  scene  ! 


\ Each  flower  and  tree,  its  duty  done, 

> Reposing  in  decay  serene, 

] Like  weary  men  when  age  is  won, 

<;  Such  calm  old  age  as  conscience  pure 

I And  self-commanding  hearts  ensure, 

Waiting  their  summons  to  the  sky, 

Content  to  live,  but  not  afraid  to  die. 

Sure  if  our  eyes  were  purged  to  trace 
God’s  unseen  armies  hovering  round, 

We  should  behold  by  angels’  grace 
The  four  strong  winds  of  heaven  fast  bound, 
Their  downward  sweep  a moment  stay’d 
i On  ocean  cove  and  forest  glade, 
s Till  the  last  flower  of  autumn  shed 
| Her  funeral  odours  on  her  dying  bed. 

\ So  in  thine  awful  armory,  Lord, 

\ The  lightnings  of  the  judgment  day 
' Pause  yet  awhile,  in  mercy  stored, 

) Till  willing  hearts  wear  quite  away 
> Their  earthly  stains ; and  spotless  shine 
) On  every  brow  in  light  divine 
? The  Cross  by  angel  hands' impress’d, 


The  seal  of  glory  won  and  pledge  of  promised 
rest. 


HOLY  COMMUNION. 


293 


Little  they  dream,  those  haughty  souls 
Whom  empires  own  with  bended  knee, 

What  lowly  fate  their  own  controls, 

Together  link’d  by  Heaven’s  decree  ; — 

As  bloodhounds  hush  their  baying  wild 
To  wanton  with  some  fearless  child, 

So  Famine  waits,  and  War  with  greedy  eyes, 

] Till  some  repenting  heart  be  ready  for  the  skies. 

Think  ye  the  spires  that  .glow  so  bright 
In  front  of  yonder  setting  sun. 

Stand  by  their  own  unshaken  might  ? 

No— where  th’  upholding  grace  is  won, 

We  dare  not  ask,  nor  Heaven  would  tell, 

But  sure  from  many  a hidden  dell, 

From  many  a rural  nook  unthought  of  there 
> Rises  for  that  proud  world  the  saints’  prevailing  £ 
prayer. 

On,  champions  blest,  in  Jesus’  name, 

Short  be  your  strife,  your  triumph  full, 

Till  every  heart  have  caught  your  flame, 

And,  lighten’d  of  the  world’s  misrule, 

Ye  soar  those  elder  saints  to  meet, 

Gather’d  long  since  at  Jesus’  feet, 

No  world  of  passions  to  destroy, 

] Your  prayers  and  struggles  o’er,  your  task  all  ^ 
praise  and  joy. 


HOLY  COMMUNION. 

O God  of  Mercy,  God  of  Might, 

How  should  pale  sinners  bear  the  sight, 
If,  as  Thy  power  is  surely  here, 

Thine  open  glory  should  appear? 


HOLY  COMMUNION. 


For  now  Thy  people  are  allow’d 
To  scale  the  mount  and  pierce  the  cloud, 
And  Faith  may  feed  her  eager  view 
With  wonders  Sinai  never  knew. 

Fresh  from  th’  atoning  sacrifice 
The  world’s  Creator  bleeding  lies, 

That  man,  his  foe,  by  whom  He  bled, 
May  take  Him  for  his  daily  bread. 

Oh  ! agony  of  wavering  thought 
When  sinners  first  so  near  are  brought ! 

“ It  is  my  Maker— dare  I stay  ? 

My  Saviour— dare  I turn  away?”* 

Thus  while  the  storm  is  high  within 
’Twixt  love  of  Christ  and  fear  of  sin, 
Who  can  express  the  soothing  charm, 

To  feel  thy  kind  upholding  arm, 

My  mother  Church?  and  hear  thee  tell 
Of  a world  lost,  yet  loved  so  well, 

That  He,  hy  whom  the  angels  live, 

His  only  Son  for  her  would  give.f 

And  doubt  we  yet  ? thou  call’st  again  ; 

A lower  still,  a sweeter  strain  ; 

A voice  from  mercy’s  inmost  shrine. 

The  very  breath  of  love  divine. 


: [See  the  exhortations  to  the  Communion,  in  the  \ 

> Book  of  Common  Prayer.  It  would  seem  that  no  < 

> Christian,  who  in  humility  and  sincerity  reads  the  ? 

> Scripture  passages  on  this  subject,  and  the  commen-  S 

> tary  there  given,  could  doubt  as  to  God’s  will,  or  his  < 

> own  duty.]  5 

> t ‘‘God  so  loved  the  world,  that  He  gave  his  only  \ 
< begotten  Son.”  See  the  sentences  in  the  Communion  < 
i Service,  after  the  Confession. 


HOLY  COMMUNION. 


295  \ 


Whispering  it  says  to  each  apart, 

“ Come  unto  me.  thou  trembling  heart 
And  we  must  hope,  so  sweet  the  tone, 

The  precious  words  are  all  our  own. 

Hear  them,  kind  Saviour — hear  thy  spouse 
Low  at  thy  feet  renew  her  vows  ; 

Thine  own  dear  promise  she  would  plead 
For  us  her  true  though  fallen  seed. 

She  pleads  by  all  thy  mercies,  told 
Thy  chosen  witnesses  of  old. 

Love’s  heralds  sent  to  man  forgiven. 

One  from  the  cross,  and  one  from  heaven.t 

This,  of  true  penitents  the  chief, 

To  the  lost  spirit  brings  relief, 

Lifting  on  high  the  adored  name 
“ Sinners  to  save,  Christ  Jesus  came.”J 

That,  dearest  of  thy  bosom  friends, 

Into  the  wavering  heart  descends : — 

“ What ! fallen  again  ? yet  cheerful  rise,§ 
Thine  intercessor  never  dies.” 

The  eye  of  faith,  that  waxes  bright 
F>ach  moment  by  thine  altar’s  light, 

Sees  them,  e’en  now:  they  still  abide 
In  mystery  kneeling  at  our  side  ; 


( r Come  unto  me.  all  ye  that  travail,  and  are  heavy 

> laden,  and  I will  refresh  you. 

t St.  Paul  and  St.  John. 

t This  is  a faithful  saying,  and  worthy  of  all  men  to 

> be  received,  That  Christ  Jesus  came  into  the  world  to 
\ save  sinners. 

, § If  any  man  sin,  we  have  an  advocate  with  the 

> Father,  Jesus  Christ  the  righteous. 


% 


’ 296 


HOLY  BAPTISM. 


And  with  them  every  spirit  blest. 

From  realms  of  triumph  or  of  rest. 

From  Him  who  saw  creation’s  morn, 

Of  all  thine  angels  eldest  born, 

To  the  poor  babe,  who  died  to-day, 

Take  part  in  our  thanksgiving  lay,* 
Watching  the  tearful  joy  and  calm. 

While  sinners  taste  thine  heavenly  balm. 
Sweet  awful  hour!  the  only  sound 
One  gentle  footstep  gliding  round, 
Offering  by  turns  on  Jesus’  part 
The  cross  to  every  hand  and  heart. 
Refresh  us,  Lord,  to  hold  it  fast; 

And  when  thy  veil  is  drawn  at  last. 

Let  us  depart  where  shadows  cease, 

With  words  of  blessing  and  of  peace. 


HOLT  BAPTISM.t* 

Where  is  it,  mothers  learn  their  love? — 

In  every  Church  a fountain  springs 
O’er  which  th’  eternal  Dove 
Hovers  on  softest  wings. 

* [The  Communion  of  Saints.  There  is  an  admi- 
? rable  sermon  on  this  subject,  by  the  Rev.  Charles 

> Forster,  the  Chaplain,  companion  and  bosom  friend  of 
? the  late  inestimable  Bishop  of  Limerick,  Dr.  Jebb,  to 
[ whose  memory  it  is  dedicated.  It  was  printed,  but  not 
J published.] 

t [There  is  a soothing  sacred  beauty  in  these  lines, 

> peculiar  and  indescribable.  The  strain  they  breathe 
[ comes  sweetly  and  sofily  on  the  soul,  like  a sleeping 

> infant’s  breath.  We  are  mistaken  if  they  do  not  make 
f all  Christian  mothers  in  love  with  Keble’s  poetry.] 


HOLY  BAPTISM. 


What  sparkles  in  that  lucid  flood 
Is  water,  by  gross  mortals  eyed: 

But  seen  by  faith,  ’t  is  blood 
Out  of  a dear  Friend’s  side. 

A few  calm  words  of  faith  and  prayer, 
A few  bright  drops  of  holy  dew, 

Shall  work  a wonder  there 
Earth’s  charmers  never  knew. 

O happy  arms,  where  cradled  lies, 

And  ready  for  the  Lord’s  embrace, 
That  precious  sacrifice, 

The  darling  of  his  grace  ! 

Blest  eyes,  that  see  the  smiling  gleam 
Upon  the  slumbering  features  glow, 
When  the  life-giving  stream 
Touches  the  tender  brow  ! 

Or  when  the  holy  cross  is  sign’d, 

And  the  young  soldier  duly  sworn. 
With  true  and  fearless  mind 
To  serve  the  Virgin-born. 

But  happiest  ye,  who  seal’d  and  blest 
Back  to  your  arms  your  treasure  take, 
With  Jesus’  mark  impress’d 
To  nurse  for  Jesus’  sake : 

To  whom— as  if  in  hallow’d  air 
Ye  knelt  before  some  awful  shrine— 
His  innocent  gestures  wear 
A meaning  halfdivine: 

By  whom  love’s  daily  touch  is  seen 
In  strengthening  form  and  freshening 
In  the  fix’d  brow  serene, 

The  deep  yet  eager  view. — 


5 298 


CA.TECHISM. 


l 


Who  taught  thy  pure  and  even  breath 
To  come  and  go  with  such  sweet  grace  ? 

Whence  thy  reposing  faith, 

Though  in  our  frail  embrace  ? 

O tender  gem,  and  full' of  Heaven  ! 

Not  in  the  twilight  stars  on  high, 

Not  in  moist  flowers  at  even 
See  we  our  God  so  nigh. 

Sweet  one,  make  haste  and  know  Him  too, 
Thine  own  adopting  Father  love, 

That  like  thine  earliest  dew 
Thy  dying  sweets  may  prove. 


CATECHISM.* 

Oh  say  not,  dream  not,  heavenly  notes 
To  childish  ears  are  vain, 

That  the  young  mind  at  random  floats, 

And  cannot  reach  the  strain. 

Dim  or  unheard,  the  words  may  fall, 

And  yet  the  heaven-taught  mind 
May  learn  the  sacred  air,  and  all 
The  harmony  unwind-! 

* [From  the  Font  our  poet  passes  to  the  Catechism.  < 
We  would  that  he  might  take  all  Christian  parents  and  < 
sponsors  with  him.]  < 

t [The  common  but  groundless  objection,  that  ( 
children  cannot  understand  the  Catechism,  is  beauti-  £ 
fully  and  effectually  answered  in  these  lines.  It  applies  t 
with  equal  force  to  the  several  branches  of  human  ; 
learning.  In  grammar,  in  mathematics,  in  philosophy,  £ 
the  child  learns  much  that  he  does  not  fully  compre- 


CATECHISM. 


299  : 


Was  not  our  Lord  a little  child,* 

Taught  by  degrees  to  pray, 

By  father  dear  and  mother  mild 
Instructed  day  by  day? 

And  loved  He  not  of  heaven  to  talk 
With  children  in  hi«  sight, 

To  meet  them  in  his  daily  walk, 

And  to  his  arms  invite? 

What  though  around  His  throne  of  fire 
The  everlasting  chant 
Be  wafted  from  the  seraph  choir 
In  glory  jubilant  ? 

Yet  stoops  He,  ever  pleased  to  mark 
Our  rude  essays  of  love, 

Faint  as  the  pipe  of  wakening  lark, 

Heard  by  some  twilight  grove : 

Yet  is  He  near  us,  to  survey 

These  bright  and  order’d  files, 

Like  spring-flowers  in  their  best  array. 

All  silence  and  all  smiles, 

Save  that  each  little  voice  in  turn 
Some  glorious  truth  proclaims, — 

What  sages  would  have  died  to  learn, 

Now  taught  by  cottage  dames.j: 

\ hend.  But  it  is  stored  in  his  memory,  and  as  his  intel- 
r lectual  powers  are  developed,  he  understands  its  mean-  ) 
5 ing.  So  it  must  be  with  the  Scriptures,  as  well  as  with  5 
] the  Catechism.] 

* [’‘And  he  went  down  with  them,  and  came  to  Na-  < 
? zareth,  and  was  subject  unto  them ; and  his  mother  \ 
5 kept  all  these  sayings  in  her  heart.  And  Jesus  in-  5 
< creased  in  wisdom  and  stature,  and  in  favour  with  God 
\ and  man.” — Luke  ii.  51,  52.] 

t [Truths  are  made  familiar  to  children  in  the  Sun-^ 


And  if  some  tones  be  false  or  low, 

What  are  all  prayers  beneath 

But  cries  of  babes,  that  cannot  know 
Half  the  deep  thought  they  breathe? 

In  his  own  words  we  Christ  adore, 

But  angels,  as  we  speak, 

Higher  above  our  meaning  soar 
Than  we  o’er  children  weak  : 

And  yet  His  words  mean  more  than  they, 
And  yet  He  owns  their  praise  ; 

Why  should  we  think,  He  turns  away 
From  infants’  simple  lays? 


CONFIRMATION.* 

The  shadow  of  th’  Almighty’s  cloud 
Calm  on  the  tents  of  Israel  lay, 

While  drooping  paused  twelve  banners  proud, 
Till  He  arise  and  lead  the  way. 


> dny school  which  Plato  and  Cicero  longed  to  ascertain, 
i Ye  a, 

“ Prophets  and  kings  desired  to  know, 

And  died  without  the  sight:”] 

* [“  It  is  certainly  not  a sacrament,  but  I know  it  is 
! a means  of  grace,  and  1 trust  and  believe,  generally 

> speaking,  an  efficacious  means.  And  how  simple  the 

> rite  itself  is  ; and  how  very  natural  in  both  its  parts ! 

1 “ How  natural  it  seems,  that  those  to  whom  a gra- 

> cious  God  has  given  life,  and  health,  and  happiness, 
( and  beauty,  should,  as  soon  as  they  are  old  enough  to 

2 look  round  on  the  fair  creation,  amidst  which  they 
i are  placed  as  the  fairest,  desire  of  themselves,  to  place 
\ themselves  under  the  care  of  its  beneficent  God.  Yet, 


Then  to  the  desert  breeze  unroll’d, 
Cheerly  the  waving  pennons  fly, 

Lion  or  eagle— each  bright  fold 
A loadstar  to  a warrior’s  eye. 

So,  should  thy  champions,  ere  the  strife, 
By  holy  hands  o’ershadow’d  kneel, 

So,  fearless  for  their  charmed  life, 

Bear,  to  the  end,  thy  Spirit’s  seal. 

Steady  and  pure  as  stars  that  beam 
In  middle  heaven,  all  mist  above. 

Seen  deepest  in  the  frozen  stream 
Such  is  their  high  courageous  love. 

And  soft  as  pure,  and  warm  as  bright, 
They  brood  upon  life’s  peaceful  hour, 

As  if  the  Dove  that  guides  their  flight 
Shook  from  her  plumes  a downy  shower. 

Spirit  of  might  and  sweetness  too! 

Now  leading  on  t,he  wars  of  God, 


< alas  ! there  I mistake  my  ground  ; that  was  man’s  na- 
l tural  condition  once,  when  * God  saw  every  thing  that 

< he  had  made,  and  behold  it  was  very  good but  the 
J case  is  entirely  altered  now  ; yet  it  is  meet  and  right, 
| that.  if.  having  been  afar  off,  they  have  been  brought 

< near  by  the  blood  of  Christ,  sprinkled  with  the  waters 
) of  baptism,  and  taken,  when  unconscious  of  the  privi- 
^ lege,  into  covenant  with  the  most  high  God— it  is  na- 

< tural,  that  if  they  have  any  feeling,  any  gratitude, 
$ they  should  desire  to  renew  the  vow,  and  enter  into 

< the  covenant,  for  themselves.  And  how  simply  beau- 
l tiful  our  service  is— how  free  from  superstitious  pomp, 

< and  unmeaning  ceremony  on  the  one  hand — and  on 
( the  other,  how  impressive,  how  solemn  : how  all 
\ things  are  done  decently  and  in  order.”— Scenes  in 
l our  Parish,  by  “ a Country  Parson's  Daughter .” 


j 302 


MATRIMONY. 


Now  to  green  isles  of  shade  and  dew 
Turning  the  waste  thy  people  trod  ; 

Draw,  Holy  Ghost,  thy  seven-fold  veil 
Between  us  and  the  fires  of  youth  ; 

Breathe,  Holy  Ghost,  thy  freshening  gale, 
Our  fever'd  brow  in  age  to  soothe. 

And  oft  as  sin  and  sorrow  tire, 

The  hallow’d  hour  do  Thou  renew, 

When  beckon’d  up  the  awful  choir 
By  pastoral  hands,  toward  Thee  we  drew ; 

When  trembling  at  the  sacred  rail 
We  hid  our  eyes  and  held  our  breath, 

Felt  Thee  how  strong,  our  hearts  how  frail, 
And  long’d  to  own  Thee  to  the  death. 

For  ever  on  our  souls  be  traced 
That  blessing  dear,  that  dove-like  hand, 

A sheltering  rock  in  Memory’s  waste, 
O’ershadowing  all  the  weary  land. 


MATRIMONY.  , 

There  is  an  awe  in  mortals’  joy, 

A deep  mysterious  fear 
Half  of  the  heart  will  still  employ, 
As  if  we  drew  too  near 
To  Eden’s  portal,  and  those  fires 
That  bicker  round  in  wavy  spires, 
Forbidding,  to  our  frail  desires, 
What  cost  us  once  so  dear. 


MATRIMONY. 


303  i 


We  cower  bfefore  th’  heart-searching  eye 
In  rapture  as  in  pain, 

Even  wedded  Love,  till  Thou  be  nigh, 

Dares  not  believe  her  gain  : 

Then  in  the  air  she  fearless  springs, 

The  breath  of  Heaven  beneath  her  wings, 
And  leaves  her  wood-note  wild,  and  sings 
A tuned  and  measured  strain. 

Ill  fare  the  lay,  though  soft  as  dew 
And  free  as  air  it  fall, 

That,  with  thine  altar  full  in  view, 

Thy  votaries  would  enthrall 
To  a foul  dream,  of  heathen  night, 

Lifting  her  torch  in  Love’s  despite, 

And  scaring  with  base  wildfire  light 
The  sacred  nuptial  hall. 

Far  other  strains,  far  other  fires, 

Our  marriage  offering  grace; 

Welcome,  all  chaste  and  kind  desires, 

With  even  matron  pace 
Approaching  down  the  hallow’d  aisle! 

Where  should  ye  seek  Love’s  perfect  smile, 

But  where  your  prayers  were  learn’d  erewhile, 
In  her  own  native  place?* 

Where  but  on  His  benignest  brow, 

Who  waits  to  bless  you  here? 

Living,  He  own’d  no  nuptial  vow, 

No  bower  to  fancy  dear : 


, [Marriage  should  always  be  performed  in  the  < 
[ church,  i here  is  a departure  in  this  respect  from  her  > 
; provisions,  and  from  Christian  propriety,  much  to  be  > 
» regretted.] 


I 304  VISITATION  AND  COMMUNION  OF  THE  SICK.  < 

Love’s  very  self— for  Him  no  need 
To  nurse,  on  earth,  the  heavenly  seed: 

Yet  comfort  in  His  eye  we  read 
For  bridal  joy  and  fear. 

’Tis  He  who  clasps  the  marriage  band, 

And  fits  the  spousal  ring. 

Then  leaves  ye  kneeling,  hand  in  hand, 

Out  of  His  stores  to  bring 
His  Father’s  dearest  blessing,  shed 
Of  old  on  Isaac’s  nuptial  bed, 

Now  on  the  board  before  ye  spread 
Of  our  all-bounteous  King. 

All  blessings  of  the  breast  and  womb, 

Of  heaven  and  earth  beneath, 

Of  converse  high,  and  sacred  home, 

Are  yours,  in  life  and  death. 

Only  kneel  on,  nor  turn  away 
From  the  pure  shrine,  where  Christ  to  day 
Will  store  each  flower  ye  duteous  lay, 

For  an  eternal  wreath. 


VISITATION  AND  COMMUNION  OF 
THE  SICE. 

0 Youth  and  Joy,  your  airy  tread 
Too  lightly  springs  by  Sorrow’s  bed, 

Your  keen  eye-glances  are  too  bright, 

Too  restless  for  a sick  rtian’s  sight. 

Farewell : for  one  short  life  we  part; 

1 rather  woo  the  soothing  art, 

Which  only  souls  in  sufferings  tried 
Bear  to  their  suffering  brethren’s  side. 


j VISITATION  AND  COMMUNION  OF  THE  SICK.  305  { 

Where  may  we  learn  that  gentle  spell  ? 

Mother  of  Martyrs,  thou  canst  tell ! 

Thou,  who  didst  watch  thv  dying  Spouse 
With  pierced  hands  and  bleeding  brows, 

Whose  tears  from  age  to  age  are  shed 
O’er  sainted  sons'  untimely  dead, 

If  e’er  we  charm  a soul  in  pain, 

Thine  is  the  key-note  of  our  strain. 

How  sweet  with  thee  to  lift  the  latch, 

Where  Faith  has  kept  her  midnight  watch, 
Smiling  on  wo:  with  thee  to  kneel, 

Where  fix’d,  as  if  one  prayer  could  heal, 

She  listens,  till  her  pale  eye  glow 
With  joy,  wild  health  can  never  know, 

And  each  calm  feature,  ere  we  read, 

Speaks,  silently,  thy  glorious  Creed. 

Such  have  I:  seen : a nd  while  they  pour’d 
Their  hearts  in  every  contrite  word, 

How  have  I rather  long’d  to  kneel 
And  ask  of  them  sweet  pardon’s  seal! 

How  bless’d  the  heavenly  music  brought 
By  thee  to  aid  my  faltering  thought! 

“ Peace,”  ere  w,e  kneel,  and  when  we  cease 
To  pray,  the  farewell  word  is,  “ Peace.”* 

I came  again  : the  place  was  bright. 

“ With  something  of  celestial  light”— 

A simple  altar  by  the  bed 

For  high  Communion  meetly  spread, 


\ * [At  his  entrance,  the  minister  says,  44  Peace  be  to  > 

\ this  house,  and  to  all  that  dweli  in  it.”  The  blessing,  S 
< at  the  close,  concludes  with  these  words,  44 The  Lord  l 
) lift  up  his  countenance  upon  thee,  and  give  thee  peace  ? 
s both  now  and  evermore.”] 


20 


BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 


Chalice,  and  plate,  and  snowy  vest. — 
We  ate  and  drank:  then  calmly  blestA 
All  mourners,  one  with  dying  breath, 
We  6ate  and  talk’d  of  Jesus’  death. 

Once  more  I came:  the  silent  room 
Was  veil’d  in  sadly.soothing  gloom, 
And  ready  for  her  last  abode 
The  pale  form  like  a lily  show’d, 

By  virgin  fingers  duly  spread, 

And  prized  for  love  of  summer  fled. 
The  light  from  those  soft  smiling  eyes 
Had  fleeted  to  its  parent  skies. 

O soothe  us,  haunt  us,  night  and  day, 

Ye  gentle  spirits  far  away, 

With  whom  we  shared  the  cup  of  grace, 
Then  parted  ; ye  to  Christ’s  embrace, 
We  to  the  lonesome  world  again, 

Yet  mindful  of  th’  unearthly  strain 
Practised  with  you  at  Eden’s  door, 

To  be  sung  on,  where  angels  soar, 
With  blended  voices  evermore. 


BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 

And  when  the  Lord  saw  her,  He  had  compassion 
on  her,  and  said  unto  her,  Weep  not.  And  he  came 
and  touched  the  bier  (and  they  that  bare  him  stood 
still)  and  He  said.  Young  man,  l say  unto  thee,  Arise. 
— St.  Luke  vii.  13,  14. 

Who  says,  the  wan  autumnal  sun 
Beams  with  too  faint  a smile 

To  light  up  nature’s  face  again, 


BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 


307  \ 


And,  though  the  year  be  on  the  wane, 

With  thoughts  of  spring  the  heart  beguile  ? 

Waft  him,  thou  soft  September  breeze, 

And  gently  lay  him  down 
Within  some  circling  woodland  wall, 

Where  bright  leaves,  reddening  ere  they  fall, 
Wave  gaily  o’er  the  waters  brown. 

And  let  some  graceful  arch  be  there 
With  wreathed  mullions  proud, 

With  burnish’d  ivy  for  its  screen, 

And  moss,  that  glows  as  fresh  and  green 
As  though  beneath  an  April  cloud. — 

Who  says  the  widow’s  heart  must  break, 

The  childless  mother  sink  ? — 

A kinder,  truer  voice  I hear, 

Which  even  beside  that  mournful  bier 

Whence  parents’  eyes  would  hopeless  shrink, 

Bids  weep  no  more — O heart  bereft. 

How  strange,  to  thee,  that  sound! 

A widow  o’er  her  only  son, 

Feeling  more  bitterly  alone 
For  friends  that  press  officious  round. 

Yet  is  the  voice  of  comfort  heard, 

For  Christ  hath  touch’d  the  bier — 

The  bearers  wait  with  wondering  eye, 

The  swelling  bosom  dares  not  sigh, 

But  all  is  still,  ’twixt  hope  and  fear. 

Even  such  an  awful  soothing  calm 
We  sometimes  see  alight 
On  Christian  mourners,  while  they  wait 
In  silence,  by  some  church-yard  gate, 

Their  summons  to  the  holy  rite. 


\ 308 


BURIAL  OF  THE  DEAD. 


And  such  the  tones  of  love,  which  break 
The  stillness  of  that  hour, 

Quelling  th’  imbitter’d  spirit’s  strife — 

“ The  Resurrection  and  the  Life 
Am  I : believe,  and  die  no  more.” 

Unchanged  that  voice— and  though  not  yet 
The  dead  sit  up  and  speak, 

Answering  its  call ; we  gladlier  rest 
Our  darlings  on  earth’s  quiet  breast, 

And  our  hearts  feel  they  must  not  break. 

Far  better  they  should  sleep  awhile 
Within  the  church’s  shade  ; 

Nor  wake,  until  new  heaven,  new  earth, 
Meet  for  their  new  immortal  birth, 

For  their  abiding  place  be  made, 

Than  wander  back  to  life,  and  lean 
On  our  frail  love  once  more. 

’T  is  sweet,  as  year  by  year  we  lose 
Friend^  out  of  sight,  in  faith  to  muse 
How  grows  in  Paradise  our  store. 

Then  pass,  ye  mourners,  cheerly  on, 
Through  prayer  unto  the  tomb, 

Still,  as  ye  watch  life’s  falling  leaf, 
Gathering  from  every  loss  and  grief 
Hope  of  new  spring  and  endless  home. 

Then  cheerly  to  your  work  again 
With  hearts  new-braced  and  set 
To  run,  untired,  love’s  blessed  race, 

As  meet  for  those,  who  face  to  face 
Over  the  grave  their  Lord  have  met. 


CHURCHING  OF  WOMEN. 


309 


CHURCHING-  OF  WOMEN.* 


Is  there,  in  bowers  of  endless  spring, 

One  known  from  all  the  seraph  band 
By  softer  voice,  by  smile  and  wing 
More  exquisitely  bland  ? 

Here  let  him  speed  : to-day  this  hallow’d  air 
; Is  fragrant  with  a mother’s  first  and  fondest  ^ 
prayer. 

Only  let  Heaven  her  fire  impart, 

No  richer  incense  breathes  on  earth  : 

“A  spouse  with  all  a daughter’s  heart,” 

Fresh  from  the  perilous  birth, 

To  the  great  Father  lifts  her  pale  glad  eye, 

! Like  a reviving  flower  when  storms  are  hush’d  \ 
on  high. 

O what  a treasure  of  sweet  thought 
Is  here  ! what  hope  and  joy  and  love 
All  in  one  tender  bosom  brought, 

For  the  all-gracious  Dove 
To  brood  o’er  silently,  and  form  for  heaven 
\ Each  passionate  wish  and  dream  to  dear  affection  \ 
given. 

Her  fluttering  heart,  too  keenly  blest, 

Would  sicken,  but  she  leans  on  Thee, 


* [Why  is  it  that  this  beautiful  and  most  affecting  > 
? rite  is  so  little  observed  1 Ought  not  the  appropriate  < 
? thanksgiving,  at  least,  be  offered,  in  acknowledgment  £ 
5 of  God’s  great  mercy,  by  every  mother  ?] 


< 310 


COMMINATION. 


Sees  Thee  by  faith  on  Mary’s  breast, 

And  breathes  serene  and  free, 

Slight  tremblings  only  of  her  veil  declare* 

\ Soft  answers  duly  whisper'd  to  each  soothing  | 
prayer. 

We  are  too  weak,  when  Thou  dost  bless, 

To  bear  the  joy — help,  Virgin -born  1 
By  thine  own  mother’s  first  caress, 

That  waked  thy  natal  morn  ! 

Help,  by  the  unexpressive  smile,  that  made 
> A heaven  on  earth  around  the  couch  where  Thou  < 
wast  laid ! 


COMMINATION. f 

The  prayers  are  o’er : why  slumberest  thou  < 
so  long, 

Thou  voice  of  sacred  song? 

Why  swell’st  thou  not,  like  breeze  from  \ 
mountain  cave, 

High  o’er  the  echoing  nave,  $ 

The  white  robed  priest,  as  other  while,  to  S 
guide 

Up  to  the  altar’s  northern  side  ?— 

* When  the  woman  comes  to  this  office,  the  rubric 
? (as  it  was  altered  at  the  last  review)  directs  lhat  she  be 
S decently  apparelled , that  is,  as  the  custom  and  order 
< was  formerly,  with  a white  covering  ox  veil.-  Wheatley 
$ on  the  Common  Prayeri  c.  xiii.  sect.  i.  3. 

? t [“  A Commination,  or  denouncing  of  God’s  anger 
s and  judgments  against  sinners,  with  certain  prayers,  to 
l be  used  on  the  first  day  of  Lent,  and  at  other  limes, 

S as  the  ordinary  shall  appoint.”  This  service  is  not  re- 
l tained  in  the  Liturgy  of  the  American  Church.] 


GOMMINATION. 


311 ; 


A mourner’s  tale  of  shame  and  sad  decay 
\ Keeps  back  our  glorious  sacrifice  to-day  : 

The  widow’d  Spouse  of  Christ : with  ashes  j 
crown’d, 

Her  Christmas  robes  unbound, 

She  lingers  in  the  porch  for  grief  and  fear, 
Keeping  her  penance  drear.— 

Oh  ! is  it  naught  to  you  that,  idly  gay 
Or  coldly  proud,  ye  turn  away  ? 

But  if  her  warning  tears  in  vain  be  spent, 
f Lo,  to  her  alter’d  eye  the  law’s  stern  fires  are  j 
lent. 

Each  awful  curse,  that  on  Mount  Ebal  rang,  j 
Peals  with  a direr  clang 
Out  of  that  silver  trump,  whose  tones  of  old  j 
Forgiveness  only  told. 

And  who  can  blame  the  mother’s  fond  \ 
affright,* 

Who  sporting  on  some  giddy  height 
Her  infant  sees,  and  springs  with  hurried  hand  \ 
\ To  snatch  the  rover  from  the  dangerous  strand  ? 

But  surer  than  all  words  the  silent  spell 
(So  Grecian  legends  tell) 


* Alluding  to  a beautiful  anecdote  in  the  Greek  i 
> Anthology,  tom.  i.  180,  ed.  Jacobs.— -See  Pleasures  of  ^ 
; Memory,  p.  133. 

[“  While  on  the  cliff  with  calm  delight  she  kneels, 
And  the  blue  vales  a thousand  joys  recall, 

See,  to  the  last,  last  verge  her  infant  steals  ! 

O fly — yet  stir  not,  speak  not,  lest  it  fall. 

Far  better  taught,  she  lays  her  bosom  bare, 

And  the  fond  boy  springs  back  to  nestle  there  1” 
Rogers,  from,  a Greek  Epigram .1 


C0MM1NATI0N. 


When  to  her  bird,  too  early  scaped  the  nest, 
She  bares  her  tender  breast. 


Smiling  he  turns  and  spreads  his  little  wing, 
There  to  glide  home,  there  safely  cling. 
So  yearns  our  mother  o’er  each  truant  son, 

So  softly  falls  the  lay  in  fear  and  wrath  begun. 

Wayward  and  spoil’d  she  knows  ye  : the  keen 
blast, 

That  braced  her  youth,  is  past : 

The  rod  of  discipline,  the  robe  of  shame — 
She  bears  them  in  your  name: 

Only  return  and  love.  But  ye  perchance 
Are  deeper  plunged  in  sorrow’s  trance  : 
Your  God  forgives,  but  ye  no  comfort  take 
Till  ye  have  scourged  the  sins  that  in  your  con- 
science ache. 

O heavy-laden  soul ! kneel  down  and  hear 
Thy  penance  in  calm  fear, 

With  thine  own  lips  to  sentence  all  thy  sin  ; 

Then,  by  the  judge  within 
Absolved,  in  thankful  sacrifice  to  part 
For  ever  with  thy  sullen  heart, 

Nor  on  remorseful  thoughts  to  brood,  and  stain 
The  glory  of  the  Cross,  forgiven  and  cheer’d  in 
vain. 


FORMS  OF  PRAYER  TO  BE  USED  AT  SEA.  313*1" 


j FORMS  OF  PRATER  TO  RE  USED  AT  j 
SEA. 

} When  thou  passest  through  the  waters,  I will  be  with  \ 
s thee. — Isaiah  xliii.  2. 

< The  shower  of  moonlight  falls  as  still  and  clear 

i Upon  the  desert  main, 

) As  where  sweet  flowers  some  pastoral  garden  < 
? cheer 

l With  fragrance  after  rain  ; 

The  wild  winds  rustle  in  the  piping  shrouds, 
s As  in  the  quivering  trees: 

< Like  summer  fields,  beneath  the  shadowy  clouds  ^ 

< The  yielding  waters  darken  in  the  breeze. 

^ Thou  too  art  here  with  thy  soft  inland  tones, 
Mother  of  our  new,  birth  ;* 

( The  lonely  ocean  learns  thy  orisons, 
j And  loves  thy  sacred  mirth: 

) When  storms  are  high,  or  when  the  fires  of  war  \ 

> Come  lightening  round  our  course, 
l Thou  breathest  a note  like  music  from  afar, 
l Tempering  rude  hearts  with  calm  angelic  force.  \ 

] Far,  far  away,  the  home-sick  seaman’s  hoard, 

Thy  fragrant  tokens  live, 

\ Like  flower-leaves  in  a precious  volume  stored, 
To  solace  and  relieve 

< Some  heart  too  weary  of  the  restless  world ; 

< Or  like  thy  Sabbath  Cross, f 

? That  o’er  the  brightening  billow  streams  unfurl’d,  | 
? Whatever  gale  the  labouring  vessel  toss. 

i * [The  Church.] 

( t [The  allusion  is  to  the  British  dag,  bearing  a Cross, 

> which  is  always  displayed  on  Sundays.] 


> 314  FORMS  OF  PRAYER  TO  BE  USED  AT  SEA. 

> Oh,  kindly  soothing  in  high  victory’s  hour, 

Or  when  a comrade  dies, 

; In  whose  sweet  presence  sorrow  dares  not  lower,  £ 
Nor  expectation  rise 

! Too  high  for  earth ; what  mother’s  heart  could  J 
spare 

To  the  cold  cheerless  deep 
! Her  flower  and  hope?  but  thou  art  with  him  $ 
; there,  5 

; Pledge  of  the  untired  arm  and  eye  that  cannot  l 
sleep : 

’ The  eye  that  watches  o’er  wild  ocean’s  dead, 

Each  in  his  coral  cave, 

! Fondly  as  if  the  green  turf  wrapt  his  head 
Fast  by  his  father’s  grave. — 

; One  moment  and  the  seeds  of  life  shall  spring 
Out  of  the  waste  abyss, 

And  happy  warriors  triumph  with  their  King 
In  worlds  without  a sea,*  unchanging  orbs  of  \ 
bliss. 


* [And  there  was  no  more  sea.— Rev.  xxi.  l.J 


GUNPOWDER  TREASON. 


315  i 


GUN  POWDER  TREASON.* 

[NOVEMBER  5.] 

> As  thou  hast  testified  of  me  at  Jerusalem,  so  must  £ 

> thou  also  bear  witness  at  Rome. — Acts  xxiii.  11, 

Beneath  the  burning  eastern  sky 
The  Cross  was  raised  at  morn  ; 

The  widow’d  Church  to  weep  stood  by, 

The  world,  to  hate  .and  scorn. 

Now,  journeying  westward,  evermore 
We  know  the  lonely  Spouse 

By  the  dear  mark  her  Saviour  bo»e 
Traced  on  her  patient  brows. 

At  Rome  she  wears  it,  as  of  old 
Upon  th’  accursed  hill : 

By  monarchs  clad  in  gems  and  gold, 

She  goes  a mourner  still. 

She  mourns  that  tender  hearts  should  bend 
Before  a meaner  shrine, 

And  upon  saint  or  angel  spend 
The  love  that  should  be  thine. 

By  day  and  night  her  sorrows  fall 
Where  miscreant  hands  and  rude 


* LThe  5th  of  November  is  kept  as  a holiday  by  the  s 
Church  of  England  in  commemoration  of  the  wonder-  ? 
ful  preservation  vouchsafed  to  her  on  that  day,  in  the  { 
year  1605,  by  the  discovery  of  the  Gunpowder  Plot.] 


GUNPOWDER  TREASON. 


j 316 

Have  stain’d  her  pure  ethereal  pall 
With  many  a martyr’s  blood. 

And  yearns  not  her  parental  heart, 

To  hear  their  secret  sighs, 

Upon  whose  doubting  way  apart 
Bewildering  shadows  rise? 

Who  to  her  side  in  peace  would  cling. 
But  fear  to  wake,  and  find 
What  they  had  deemed  her  genial  wing 
Was  error’s  soothing  blind. 

She  treasures  up  each  throbbing  prayer; 

Come,  trembler,  come  and  pour 
Into  her  bosom  all  thy  care, 

For  she  has  balm  in  store. 

Her  gentle  teaching  sweetly  blends 
With  the  clear  light  of  truth 
The  aerial  gleam  that  fancy  lends 
To  solemn  thoughts  in  youth. 

If  thou  hast  loved,  in  hours  of  gloom, 
To  dream  the  dead  are  near, 

And  people  all  the  lonely  room 
With  guardian  spirits  dear, 

Dream  on  the  soothing  dream  at  will: 
The  lurid  mist  is  o’er, 

That  show’d  the  righteous  suffering  still 
Upon  th’  eternal  shore. 

If  with  thy  heart  the  strains  accord, 
That  on  His  altar-throne 
Highest  exalt  thy  glorious  Lord, 

Yet  leave  Him  most  thine  own  ; 


Oh!  come  to  our  Communion  Feast; 

There  present  in  the  heart. 

Not  in  the  hands,  th’  eternal  Priest 
Will  his  true  self  impart. 

Thus,  should  thy  soul  misgiving  turn 
Back  to  th’  enchanted  air, 

Solace  and  warning  thou  may’st  learn 
From  all  that  tempts  thee  there. 

And  oh ! by  all  the  pangs  and  fears 
Fraternal  spirits  know, 

When  for  an  elder’s  shame  the  tears 
Of  wakeful  anguish  flow, 

Speak  gently  of  our  sister’s  fall ; 

Who  knows  but  gentle  love 
May  win  her  at  our  patient  call 
The  surer  way  to  prove  ?* 


* [Would  that  there  were  more  to  join  in  this,  as 
i truly  wise  as  it  i9  truly  pious,  sentiment!  What  have 
l Christian  men  to  do  with  calling  down  fire  from  hea- 
> ven?  When  was  conversion  ever  effected  by  compul- 
< sion  ? Or  what  was  it  worth  when  effected  1 “A  soft 
? answer  turneth  away  wrath,  but  grievous  words  stir 
\ up  anger.”] 


[JANUARY  30.] 

This  is  thankworthy,  if  a man  for  conscience  to- 
r wards  God  endure  grief,  suffering  wrongfully. — 1 St. ; 
j Peter  ii.  19. 

< Praise  to  our  pardoning  God ! though  silent  now  £ 
<;  7’he  thunders  of  the  deep  prophetic  sky,  j 

( Though  in  our  sight  no  powers  of  darkness  bow  | 
) Before  th’  apostles’  glorious  company  ; 

) The  martyrs’  noble  army  still  is  ours : 

Far  in  the  north  our  fallen  days  have  seen 
? How  in  her  wo  the  tenderest  spirit  towers, 
l For  Jesus’  sake  in  agony  serene. 

i Praise  to  our  God!  not  cottage  hearths  alone. 

\ And  shades  impervious  to  the  proud  world’s 
s glare, 

\ Such  witness  yield;  a monarch  from  his  throne 
Springs  to  his  Cross  and  finds  his  glory  there. 

\ Yes  : wheresoe'er  one  trace  of  thee  is  found, 

As  in  the  Sacred  Land,  the  shadows  fall ; 
j With  beating  hearts  we  roam  the  haunted 
ground, 

Lone  battle  field,  or  crumbling  prison  hall. 

| And  there  are  aching  solitary  breasts, 

Whose  widow’d  walk  with  thought  of  thee  is 
cheer’d, 

\ Our  own,  our  royal  saint ; thy  memory  rests 
On  many  a prayer,  the  more  for  thee  endear’d. 

* [The  anniversary  of  the  beheading  of  King  Charles 
I„  in  1649,  commemorated  in  the  calendar  of  the 
t Church  of  England.] 


i 


KING-  CHARLES  THE  MARTYR. 


319  \ 


[ True  son  of  our  dear  Mother,  early  taught 
With  her  to  worship  and  for  her  to  die, 
j Nursed  in  her  aisles  to  more  than  kingly  thought,  ^ 
Oft  in  her  solemn  hours  we  dream  thee  nigh. 

For  thou  didst  love  to  trace  her  daily  lore, 

And  where  we^look  for  comfort  or  for  calm, 

\ Over  the  self-same  lines  to  bend,  and  pour* 

Thy  heart  with  hers  in  some  victorious  psalm. 

\ And  well  did  she  thy  loyal  love  repay; 

? When  all  forsook,  her  angels  still  were  nigh: 

( Chain’d  and  bereft,  and  on  thy  funeral  way, 
Straight  to  the  cross  she  turn’d  thy  dying  eye,f 

> And  yearly  now,  before  the  Martyrs’  King, 

! For  thee  she  offers  her  maternal  tears, 

l Calls  us,  like  thee,  to  His  dear  feet  to  cling, 

And  bury  in  his  wounds  our  earthly  fears. 

Si.The  angels  hear,  and  there  is  mirth  in  heaven, 

\ Fit  prelude  of  the  joy,  when  spirits  won 
^ Like  thee  to  patient  faith,  shall  rise  forgiven, 

> And  at  thejr  Saviour’s  knees  thy  bright  example  i 
own. 


* [Surely  an  edition  of  the  “ Icon  Basilike”  would  > 

> well  repay  the  enterprise  of  publication.] 

> t His  Majesty  then  bade  him  (Mr.  Herbert)  withdraw;  , 

< for  he  was  about  an  hour  in  private  with  the  Bishop  £ 
(Juxon);  and  being  called  in,  the  Bishop  went,  to  > 
prayer ; and  reading  also  the  27th  chapter  of  the  Gos-  l 
pel  of  St.  Matthew,  which  relateth  the  passion  of  our  i 

> Blessed  Saviour.  The  King,  after  the  service  was  > 

< done,  asked  the  Bishop,  if  he  had  made  choice  of  that  ( 
] chapter,  being  so  applicable  to  his  present  condition  ? ) 
i The  Bishop  replied,  “ May  it  please  your  Gracious  £ 
| Majesty,  it  is  the  proper  lesson  for  the  day,  as  appears  ? 

by  the  Calendar which  the  King  was  much  affected  S 
with,  so  aptly  serving  as  a seasonable  preparation  for  ( 

> his  death  that  day.— Herbert's  Memoirs,  p.  131. 


► 320  THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  ROYAL  FAMILY.  < 


THE  RESTORATION  OE  THE  ROYAL 
FAMILY.* 

[may  20.] 

And  Barzillai  said  unto  the  king,  How  long  have  1 < 
to  live,  that  I should  go  up  with  the  king  unto  Jeru- 
salem ? — 2 Sam.  xix.  34. 

As  when  the  Paschal  week  is  o’er, 

Sleeps  in  the  silent  aisles  no  more 
The  breath  of  sacred  song, 

But  by  the  rising  Saviour's  light 
Awakened  soars  in  airy  flight. 

Or  deepening  rolls  along  jf 

The  while  round  altar,  niche,  and  shrine, 

The 'funeral  evergreens  entwine, 

And  a dark  brilliance  cast. 

The  brighter  for  their  hues  of  gloom. 

Tokens  of  Him,  who  through  the  tomb 
Into  high  glory  pass’d: 

Such  were  the  lights  and  such  the  strains, 
When  proudly  stream’d  o’er  ocean  plains 
Our  own  returning  cross; 

For  with  that  triumph  seem’d  to  float 
Far  on  the  breeze  one’ dirge-like  note 
Of  orphanhood  and  loss. 

, * [The  anniversary  of  the  Restoration  of  Charles  II.  < 

> to  the  throne,  in  1660,  commemorated  in  the  Church  ; 

l of  England.]  S 

f The  organ  is  silent  in  many  Churches  during  Pas-  s 

> sion  week : and  in  some  it  is  the  custom  to  put  up  l 

> evergreen  boughs  at  Easter,  as  well  as  at  Christmas  \ 
\ time. 


”f* THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  ROYAL  FAMILY.  32lT 


Father  and  King,  O where  art  thou? 

A greener  wreath  adorns  thy  brow, 
And  clearer  rays  surround: 

O for  one  hour  of  prayer  like  thine, 

To  plead  before  th’  all-ruling  shrine 
For  Britain  lost  and  found! 

And  he,*  whose  mild  persuasive  voice 
Taught  us  in  trials  to  rejoice 
Most  like  a faithful  dove, 

That  by  some  ruin’d  homestead  builds, 
And  pours  to  the  forsaken  fields 
His  wonted  lay  of  love: 


, Read  Fell’s  Life  of  Hammond,  p.  283 — 296,  Ox-  ? 

> ford,  1806.  < 

| [“At  the  opening  of  the  year  1660,  when  every  thing  > 

visibly  tended  to  the  reduction  of  his  Sacred  Majesty,  > 

> and  all  persons  in  their  several  stations  began  to  make  / 
\ way  arid  prepare  for  it,  the  good  doctor  (Hammond)  > 

> was,  by  the  fathers  of  the  Church,  desired  to  repair  to  ( 
I London,  there  to  assist  in  the  composure  of  breaches  > 
' m the  Church  : which  summons  as  he  resolved  unfit  £ 

> cither  to  dispute  or  disobey,  so  could  he  not,  without  ? 

> much  violence  to  his  inclinations,  submit  unto.  But,  > 

> finding  it  his  duty,  he  diverted  all  the  uneasiness  of  < 
5 antipathy  and  aversion  into  a deliberate  preparation  of? 

> himself  for  this  new  theatre  of  affairs,  on  which  he  s 

> was  to  enter.  Where  his  first  care  w*as  to  fortify  his  ? 
\ mind  against  the  usual  temptations  of  business,  place  > 

> and  power.  And  to  this  purpose,  besides  his  earnest  < 
\ prayers  to  God  for  his  assistance  and  disposal  of  him  > 

> entirely  to  his  glory,  and  a diligent  survey  of  all  bis  ( 

> inclinations,  and  therein  those  which  were  his  more  ? 

! open  and  less  defensible  parts,  he  farther  called  in,  and  s 
? solemnly  adjured  that  triend  of  his,  with  whom  he  had  l 
( the  nearest  opportunity  of  commerce,  to  study  and  > 
? examine  the  last  ten  years  of  his  life,  and  with  the  jus-  < 
i tice  due  to  a Christian  friendship  to  observe  the  fail-  > 
j ances  of  all  kinds,  and  show  them  to  him : which  being  s 

> accordingly  attempted,  the  product,  after  a diligent  in- 1 


21 


*f*322  THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  ROYAL  FAMILY.*!* 


Why  comes  he  not  to  bear  his  part. 

To  lift  and  guide  th’  exulting  heart  ? — 
A hand  that  cannot  spare 
Lies  heavy  on  his  gentle  breast: 

We  wish  him  health ; he  sighs  for  rest. 
And  Heaven  accepts  the  prayer. 


S quest,  only  proving  the  representation  of  such  defects  ) 
^ which  might  have  passed  for  virtue  in  another  person  : > 
) his  next  prospect  was  abroad,  what  several  ways  he  £ 
< might  do  good  unto  the  public:  and  knowing  that  the  £ 
; diocess  of  Worcester  was,  by  the  favour  of  his  ma- } 

I<  jesty,  designed  his  charge,  he  thought  of  several  op-  < 
portunities  of  charity  unto  that  place,  and,  among  ? 
others,  particularly  cast  in  his  mind  for  the  repair  of  > 
the  cathedral  church,  and  laid  the  foundation  of  a con-  £ 
siderable  advance  unto  that  work.  Which  early  care  > 
is  here  mentioned  as  an  instance  of  his  inflamed  desire  < 
of  doing  good,  and  singular  zeal  to  the  house  of  God,  > 
and  the  restoring  of  a decent  worship  in  a like  decent  $ 
place  : for  otherwise  it  was  far  from  his  custom  to  look  \ 
forward  into  future  events,  but  still  to  attend  and  > 
follow  after  Providence,  and  let  every  day  bear  its  own  ( 
evil.  And  mnv,  considering  that  the  nation  was  under  ? 
its  great  crisis  and  most  hopeful  method  of  its  cure,  $ 
which  yet,  if  palliate  and  imperfect,  would  only  make  £ 
way  to  more  fatal  sickness,  he  fell  to  his  devotions  on  ) 
that  behalf,  and  made  those  two  excellent  prayers,* 
which  were  published  immediately  after  his  death,  as 
they  had  been  made  immediately  before  his  sickness,  \ 
and  were  almost  the  very  last  thing  he  wrote. 

* [See  Works,  vol.  i,  727.  The  following  is  submitted  as  ! 
specimen,  from  the  former  of  ihem. 

“O  blessed  Lord,  who  in  thine  infinite  mercy  didst  vouchsafe  £ 
to  plant  a glorious  Church  among  us,  and  now  in  thy  just  judg-  < 
ment  hast  permitted  our  sins  and  follies  to  root  it  up,  he  pleased  > 
at  last  to  resume  thoughts  of  peace  towards  us,  that  we  may  do  ( 
the  like  to  one  another.  Lord,  look  down  from  heaven,  the  habi-  > 
tation  of  thy  holiness,  and  behold  the  ruins  of  a desolated  Church,  ( 
and  compassionate  to  see  her  in  the  dust.  Behold  her,  O Lord,  > 
not  only  broken,  but  crumbled,  divided  into  so  many  sects  and  : 
factions,  that  she  no  longer  represents  the  Ark  of  the  God  on 


j THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  ROYAL  FAMILY.  323  l 


Yes,  go  in  peace,  dear  placid  sprite, 

111  spared  ; but  would  we  store  aright 
Thy  serious,  sweet  farewell. 

We  need  not  grudge  thee  to  the  skies, 
Sure  after  thee  in  time  to  rise, 

With  thee  for  ever  dwell. 


\ “ Being  in  this  state  of  mind,  fully  prepared  for  that  > 

X new  course  of  life,  which  had  nothing  to  recommend  it  £ 
5 to  his  taste  but  its  unpleasantness,  (the  best  allective  \ 

< unto  him,)  he  expected  hourly  the  peremptory  mandate  / 
X which  was  to  call  him  forth  of  his  beloved  retirements.  £ 
i Israel,  where  the  covenant  and  the  manna  were  conserved,  but  £ 
( the  Ark  of  Noah,  filled  with  all  various  sorts  of  unclean  beasts  : > 
( and.  to  complete  our  misery  and  guilt,  the  spirit  of  division  hath  £ 

> insinuated  itself  as  well  into  our  affections  as  our  judgments:  that  > 
/ badge  of  discipleship  which  thou  recommendedst  to  us  is  cast  off,  $ 

< and  all  the  contrary  wrath  and  bitterness,  anger  and  clamour,  > 
} called  in  to  maintain  and  widen  our  breaches.  0 Lord,  how  long  j 

< shall  we  thus  violate  and  defame  that  gospel  of  peace  that  we  > 
(j  profess?  How  long  shall  we  thus  madly  defeat  ourselves,  and  > 
r lose  that  Christianity  which  we  pretend  to  strive  for?  O thou  > 
; which  makest  men  to  be  of  one  mind  in  a house,  be  pleased  so  to  £ 
( unite  us,  that  we  may  be  perfectly  joined  together  in  the  same  / 
) mind,  and  in  the  same  judgment.  And  now  that  in  civil  affairs  ? 

> there  seems  some  aptness  to  a composure,  0 let  not  our  spiritual  > 
; differences  be  more  unreconcilable.  Lord,  let  not  the  roughest  ' 
X winds  blow  out  of  the  sanctuary : let  not  those  which  should  be  f 
/ thy  ambassadors  for  peace  still  sound  a trumpet  for  war  : but  do  \ 
( thou  still  reveal  thyself  to  all  our  Elijahs  in  that  still  small  voice  > 
; which  may  teach  them  to  echo  thee  in  the  like  meek  treatings  ' 

< with  others.  Lord,  let  no  unseasonable  stiffness  of  those  that  are  ■ 
; in  the  right,  no  perverse  obstinacy  of  those  that  are  in  the  wrong,  ’ 
X hinder  the  closing  of  our  wounds;  but  let  the  one  instruct  in  ; 
j meekness,  and  be  thou  pleased  to  give  the  other  repentance  to  the  ' 

< acknowledgment  of  the  truth.  To  this  end,  do  thou,  0 Lord,  ; 
) mollify  all  exasperated  minds,  take  off  all  animosities  and  preju*  ; 
l dices,  contempt  and  heart-burnings,  and,  by  uniting  their  hearts,  , 
) prepare  for  the  reconciling  their  opinions.  And  that  nothing  may  ' 

< intercept  the  clear  sight  of  thy  truth,  Lord,  let  all  private  and  / 
) secular  designs  be  totally  deposited,  that  gain  may  no  longer  be  ■ 

< the  measure  of  our  godliness,  but  the  one  great  and  common  con-  / 
$ cernment  of  truth  and  peace  may  be  unanimously  and  vigorously  > 
{ pursued,  &c.”j 


j 324  THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  ROYAL  FAMILY.  \ 

Till  then,  whene’er  with  duteous  hand 
Year  after  year,  my  native  land 
Her  royal  offering  brings, 

Upon  the  altar  lays  the  crown, 

And  spreads  her  robes  of  old  renown 
Before  the  King  of  kings, 


i “ But  in  the  instant,  a more  importunate,  though  in- 
{ finitely  more  welcome  summons  engaged  him  on  his  < 

< last  journey  : for,  on  the  4th  of  April,  he  was  seized  \ 
; with  a sharp  fit  of  the  stone,  with  those  symptoms  that  4 
( are  usual  in  such  cases ; which  yet,  upon  the  voidance  < 
/ of  a stone,  ceased  for  that  time.  However,  on  the  8th  5 

< of  the  same  month,  it  returned  again  with  greater  ] 

< violence  : and  though  after  two  days  the  pain  de-  J 
; creased,  the  suppression  of  urine  yet  continued,  with  \ 

< frequent  vomitings,  and  a distention  of  the  whole  body,  < 
\ and  likewise  shortness  of  breath,  upon  any  little  mo-  i 
) tion.  When,  as  if  he  had,  by  some  instinct,  a certain  < 
, knowledge  of  the  issue  of  his  sickness,  he  almost,  at  ) 
| its  first  approach,  conceived  himself  in  hazard  : and  { 

< whereas  at  other  times,  when  he  saw  his  friends  about  < 
/ him  fearful,  he  was  used  to  reply  cheerfully,  ‘ that  he  1 

< was  not  dying  yet  ;’  now  in  the  whole  current  of  his  < 
i disease,  he  never  said  any  thing  to  avert,  suspicion,  hut  < 
[ addressed  unto  its  cure,  telling  his  friends  with  whom  < 

< he  was,  ‘ that  he  should  leave  them  in  God’s  hands,  t 
} who  could  supply  abundantly  all  the  assistance  they  5 

< could  either  expect  or  desire  from  him,  and  who  wmuld  < 
£ so  provide,  that  they  should  not  find  his  removal  any  5 
l loss.’  And  when  he  observed  one  of  them  with  some  s 
c earnestness  pray  for  his  health  and  continuance,  he  l 
J with  tender  passion  replied,  ‘ 1 observe  your  zeal  spends  5 
- itself  all  in  that  one  petition  for  my  recovery  ; in  the  < 
l interim  you  have  no  care  of  me  in  my  greatest  interest,  , 

w hich  is,  that  I may  be  perfectly  fitted  for  my  change  1 
} when  God  shall  call  me  : I pray  let  some  of  your  fer-  i 
} vour  be  employed  that  way.’  And  being  pressed  to  \ 
make  it  his  own  request  to  God  to  be  continued  longer  < 
) in  the  world,  to  the  service  of  the  Church,  he  imme-  ; 
diately  began  a solemn  prayer,  which  contained,  first,  j 
a very  humble  and  melting  acknowledgment  of  sin,  and  ? 


THE  RESTORATION  OF  THE  ROYAL  FAMILY.  325  j 


Be  some  kind  spirit,  likest  thine, 

Ever  at  hand,  with  airs  divine 

The  wandering  heart  to  seize; 
Whispering,  “ How  long  hast  thou  to  live, 
That  thou  shouldst  hope  or  fancy  give 
To  flowers  or  crowns  like  these?” 


a most  earnest  intercession  for  mercy  and  forgiveness 
through  the  merits  of  his  Saviour:  next,  resigning 
himself  entirely  into  his  Maker’s  hands,  he  begged  that 
if  the  divine  wisdom  intended  him  for  death,  he  might 
have  a due  preparation  for  it;  but  if  his  life  might  be 
in  any  degree  useful  to  the  Church,  even  to  one  single 
soul,  he  then  besought  Almighty  God  to  continue  him, 
and  by  his  grace  to  enable  him  to  employ  that  life  he 
so  vouchsafed,  industriously  and  successfully.  After 
this'  he  did  with  great  affection  intercede  for  this 
Church  and  nation,  and  with  particular  vigour  and 
enforcement  prayed  for  sincere  performance  of  Chris- 
tian duty,  now  so  much  decayed,  to  the  equal  sup- 
planting and  scandal  of  that  holy  calling ; that  those 
who  professed  that  faith  might  live  according  to  the 
rules  of  it,  and  to  the  form  of  godliness,  superadd  the 

Eower.  This,  with  some  repetitions,  and  more  tears, 
e pursued,  and  at  last,  closed  all  in  a prayer  for  the 
several  concerns  of  the  family  where  he  was.  With 
i this  he  frequently  blessed  God  for  so  far  indulging  to 
; his  infirmity,  as  to  make  his  disease  so  painless  to  him  ; 
i withal  to  send  it  to  him  before  he  took  his  journey, 
! whereas  it  might  have  taken  him  in  the  way  or  at  his 
' inn,  with  far  greater  disadvantages.” — Bishop  Fell's 
! Life  of  Dr.  Hammond , in  Wordsworth' s Ecclesias- 
» tical  Biography , vol.  v.  p.  428.] 


THE  ACCESSION. 


326 


THE  ACCESSION.* 

As  I was  with  Moses,  so  will  I be  with  thee  : I will  \ 
never  leave  thee,  nor  forsake  thee, — Joshua  i.  5. 

The  voice  that  from  the  glory  came 
To  tell  how  Moses  died  unseen, 

And  waken  Joshua’s  spear  of  flame 
To  victory  on  the  mountains  green, 

Its  trumpet  tones  are  sounding  still, 

When  kings  or  parents  pass  away, 

They  greet  us  with  a cheering  thrill 
Of  power  and  comfort  in  decay. 

Behind  the  soft  bright  summer  cloud 
That  makes  such  haste  to  melt  and  die, 

Our  wistful  gaze  is  oft  allow’d 
A glimpse  "of  the  unchanging  sky: 

Let  storm  and  darkness  do  their  worst; 

For  the  lost  dream  the  heart  may  ache, 

The  heart  may  ache,  but  may  not  burst; 
Heaven  will  not  leave  thee  nor  forsake. 

One  rock  amid  the  weltering  floods. 

One  torch  in  a tempestuous  night, 

One  changeless  pine  in  fading  woods;— 

Such  is  the  thought  of  Love  and  Might, 
True  Might  and  ever-present  Love, 

When  Death  is  busy  near  the  throne, 

And  Sorrow  her  keen  sting  would  prove 
On  monarchs  orphan’d  and  alone. 


/ * [The  anniversary  of  the  day  on  which  the  reigning  $ 

$ king  comes  to  the  throne.]  j 


THE  ACCESSION.  327  J 

In  that  lorn  hour  and  desolate, 

Who  could  endure  a crown  ? but 

Who  singly  bore  the  world’s  sad  weight, 

Is  near,  to  whisper,  “lean  on  me; 

Thy  days  of  toil,  thy  nights  of  care, 

Sad  lonely  dreams  in  crowded  hall, 

Darkness  within,  while  pageants  glare 
Around— the  cross  supports  them  all.” 

O promise  of  undying  love! 

While  mon a rchs  seek  thee  for  repose. 

Far  in  the  nameless  mountain  cove 
Each  pastoral  heart  thy  bounties  knows. 

Ye,  who  in  place  of  shepherds  true 
Come  trembling  to  their  awful  trust, 

Lo  here  the  fountain  to  imbue 
With  strength  and  hope  your  feeble  dust. 

Not  upon  kings  or  priests  alone 
The  power  of  that  dear  word  is  spent; 

It  chants  to  all  in  softest  tone 
The  lowly  lesson  of  content ; 

Heaven’s  light  is  poured  on  high  and  low; 

To  high  and  low  Heaven’s  Angel  spake  ; 

“ Resign  thee  to  thy  weal  or  wo, 

I ne’er  will  leave  thee  nor  forsake.” 


; 328  ORDINATION. 


ORDINATION. 

After  this,  the  Congregation  shall  be  desired  secret- 
J ly  in  their  prayers  to  make  their  humble  supplications 
! to  God  for  all  these  things ; for  the  which  prayers 
! there  shall  be  silence  kept  for  a space. 

> After  which  shall  be  sung  or  said  by  the  Bishop  (the 
persons  to  be  ordained  Priests  all  kneeling,)  “ Veni 
Creator  Spiritus.” — Rubric  in  the  Office  for  Ordering 

[ of  Priests. 

’Twas  silence  in  thy  temple,  Lord, 

When  slowly  through  the  hallow’d  air 
! The  spreading  cloud  of  incense  soar’d, 

Charged  with  the  breath  of  Israel’s  prayer. 

’Twas  silence  round  thy  throne  on  high. 

When  the  last  wondrous  seal  unclosed,* 

I And  in  the  portals  of  the  sky 
Thine  armies  awfully  reposed. 

! And  this  deep  pause,  that  o’er  us  now 
Is  hovering,  comes  it  not  of  Thee? 

I Is  it  not  like  a mother’s  vow. 

When  with  her  darling  on  her  knee, 

> She  weighs  and  numbers  o’er  and  o’er 

Love’s  treasure  hid  in  her  fond  breast, 

\ To  cull  from  that  exhaustless  store 
The  dearest  blessing  and  the  best? 

! And  where  shall  mother’s  bosom  find, 

With  all  its  deep  love-learned  skill, 


, * Rev.  viii.  1.  When  he  had  opened  the  seventh  s 

> seal,  there  was  silence  in  heaven  for  the  space  of  half  $ 
' an  hour. 


ORDINATION.  329  l 

A prayer  so  sweetly  to  her  mind. 

As,  in  this  sacred  hour  and  still, 

Is  wafted  from  the  white-robed  choir, 

Ere  yet  the  pure  high-breathed  lay, 

“ Come,  Holy  Ghost,  our  souls  inspire,” 

Rise  floating  on  its  dove-like  way. 

And  when  it  comes,  so  deep  and  clear 
The  strain,  so  soft  the  melting  fall, 

It  seems  not  to  th’  entranced  ear 
Less  than  thine  own  heart-cheering  call, 

Spirit  of  Christ — thine  earnest  given 
That  these  our  prayers  are  heard,  and  they,* 

Who  grasp,  this  hour,  the  sword  of  Heaven, 

Shall  feel  thee  on  their  weary  way. 

Oft  as  at  morn  or  soothing  eve 
Over  the  holy  fount  they  lean, 

Their  fading  garland  freshly  weave, 

Or  fan  them  with  thine  airs  serene. 

I Spirit  of  Light  and  Truth!  to  Thee 
\ We  trust  them  in  that  musing  hour.  * 

\ Till  they,  with  open  heart  and  free, 

Teach  all  Thy  word  in  all  its  power. 


* [It  were  much  to  be  desired,  that  the  prayers  “for  > 
£ those  to  be  admitted  into  Holy  Orders,”  which  are  ) 
£ included  among  the  occasional  prayers  which  follow  ' 

< immediately  after  the  Litany,  should  be  used  as  often  / 
? as  may  be,  previously  to  every  ordination.  The  effect  ) 
S could  not  but  be  favourable,  not  only  on  the  candidate  ? 

< for  whom,  but  on  the  congregation  by  whom,  they  are  > 
> used.] 


'!  330 


ORDINATION. 


1 When  foemen  watch  their  tents  by  night, 
And  mists  hang  wide  o’er  moor  and  fell, 
; Spi ri t of  Counsel  and  of  Might, 

Their  pastoral  warfare  guide  Thou  well. 

! Anri  oh  ! when  worn  and  tired  they  sigh 
; With  that  more  fearful  war  within, 

; When  Passion’s  storms  are  loud  and  high, 
And  brooding  o’er  remember’d  sin 

! The  heart  lies  down*— O mightiest  then, 

; Come  ever  true,  come  ever  near, 


*[the  ordinal. 

Alas  for  me  if  I forget 
The  memory  of  that  day 
Which  fills  my  waking  thoughts,  nor  yet 
E’en  sleep  can  take  away  ! 

In  dreams  l still  renew  the  rites 
Whose  strong  but  mystic  chain 
The  spirit  to  its  God  unites, 

And  none  can  part  again. 

How  oft  the  Bishop’s  form  I see, 

And  hear  that  thrilling  tone 
Demanding  with  authority 
The  heart  for  God  alone  ; 

Again  I kneel  as  then  1 knelt. 

While  he  above  me  stands. 

And  seem  to  feel  as  then  I felt 
The  pressure  of  his  hands. 

Again  the  priests  in  meet  array, 

As  my  weak  spirit  fails, 

Beside  me  bend  them  down  to  pray 
Before  the  chancel  rails ; 

As  then,  the  sacramental  host 
Of  God’s  elect  are  by. 

When  many  a voice  its  utterance  lost 
And  tears  dimmed  many  an  eye. 


ORDINATION. 

And  wake  their  slumbering  love  again, 
Spirit  of  God’s  most  holy  fear  ! 


331  : 


As  then  they  on  my  vision  rose, 

The  vaulted  aisles  I see, 

And  desk  and  cushion’d  book  repose 
In  solemn  sanctity,— 

The  mitre  o’er  the  marble  niche, 

The  broken  crook  and  key, 

That  from  a Bishop’s  tomb  shone  rich 
With  polish’d  tracery ; 

The  hangings,  the  baptismal  font, 

All,  all,  save  me,  unchanged, 

The  holy  table,  as  was  wont, 

With  decency  arranged  ; 

The  linen  cloth,  the  plate,  the  cup, 
Beneath  their  covering  shine, 

Ere  priestly  hands  are  lifted  up 
To  bless  the  bread  and  wine. 

The  solemn  ceremonial  past, 

And  1 am  set  apart 
To  serve  the  Lord,  from  first  to  last, 

With  undivided  heart: 

And  I have  sworn,  with  pledges  dire 
Which  God  and  man  have  heard, 

To  speak  the  holy  truth  entire 
In  action  and  in  word. 

O Thou  who  in  thy  holy  place 
Hast  set  thine  orders  three. 

Grant  me,  thy  meanest  servant,  grace 
To  win  a good  degree : 

That  so  replenish’d  from  above 
And  in  my  office  tried. 

Thou  may’st  be  honour’d,  and  in  love 
Thy  Church  be  edified  ! 

Rev.  William  Croswell .] 


THE  END. 


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